


The Order of the Silver Spider

by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Consort Wade Wilson, F/M, Library Sex (private library), Love Letters, M/M, Modern Royalty, One Night Stand Turned to Love, Oral Sex, Political Alliances, Powered AU, Prince Peter Parker, Riding, Roof Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Widower Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester
Summary: When Wade Wilson signed his loyalty to Queen Shiklah, he did it for the money. That he'd thought he was in love with her was secondary. But as the years passed, and Wade began to understand that Shiklah didn't return that love, his eyes began to wander. Prince Peter was supposed to be a distraction, a momentary dalliance to fill the time. But it was difficult for someone to be a fling if you can't get them out of your head. What was meant to last a night turns into something much deeper. Soon, Wade must question what's more important to him: loyalty to his word or loyalty to his heart.Prince Peter of Spider was barely holding things together. With his wife murdered, his kingdom's future was put into question for the first time in centuries. As the pressure mounts to find a new spouse and produce the heir that will assure his kingdom's future and treaty negotiations between his tiny principality and King Anthony heat up, Peter welcomes the distraction of Captain Wilson. But Peter finds himself still distracted even months later, and must quickly face that he is in love. Can he find a way to secure happiness with another ruler's consort, or will he be forced to marry out of duty and never truly know love again?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy (previous), Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Shiklah (Marvel)/Jack Russell, Shiklah/Dracula, Shiklah/Wade Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93
Collections: Isn't it Bromantic?, Spideypool Big Bang - The 2019 Collection





	The Order of the Silver Spider

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Spideypool Big Bang 2019 event. The letterhead included in the story was created by me. All other art was created by the wonderful and talented [blondeulence](https://blondeulence.tumblr.com/)! Thank you so much for letting me include it with the story! You can find rea's art masterpost [here](https://blondeulence.tumblr.com/post/190723262518/hi-guys-this-was-super-exciting-and-fun-to).
> 
> I would also like to thank my betas and emotional support readers (seriously, the writing of this story had me a self-doubting _mess_ and they were a huge help): [Lucki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphorofthedevil/profile), [Lizmny3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizmny3/profile), and [Fuuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/profile).
> 
> Finally, I need to thank [9th_Pawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9th_Pawn/pseuds/9th_Pawn) for taking me down the surprising and fascinating rabbit hole of chivalric orders, the history of Monaco, and creating the most entertaining history of the name of a horse I've ever read. Expect a short story detailing the Life and times of Sir Clip Clop sometime after posting ends.

* * *

Tony twisted the wine stem between his thumb and forefinger, watching it shift in his hand in silence. Peter could see the gears working behind his eyes, felt like he was watching them grind through a problem like a mortar and pestle through spices. Tony had billed this meeting as a private celebration of the treaty between their nations, but Peter felt more like he was playing a chess match when he'd never been told the rules of chess. "I’m surprised you decided to attend the annual shindig this year," he said, glancing up at Peter before bringing the glass to his lips and sipping. 

"The official mourning period is over," Peter said, turning his eyes to his own glass without drinking. The ghost of a laugh echoed in his ears. He forced a smile at Tony to distract himself. "Social obligations dictate that I had to."

"And you've opened the field for courting again, too? Lot of peacocks flexing their tail feathers, looking for your approval out there this week." He waved his glass in the direction of the door that lead to the hallway.

Peter had no idea where Tony was going with the comment, but he wasn't wrong. Peter's return to the Annual Summit of the Vernal Court was certainly turning out to be an eventful week. He hadn’t been back since his wife died in his arms, which would have made his return noteworthy all on it’s own, but Anna Maria and Sajani had decided to start making inquiries about potential spouses the month before without actually asking Peter about it, and the rumor that the 'Most Eligible Widower in the World' was looking for a new companion had not taken long to spread among the gossip bloggers. That didn't mean that Peter was happy about it. Or that he was ready to put himself out there again. He wasn't so old that heirs were a real concern, even if he was the last of his line. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"I get why you're looking so soon after..." He glanced at Peter again and quickly away, "what happened. Making heirs to the throne has to be a top priority for you and your advisors. Should something happen to you, they'd forfeit their rights to Spider in seconds." Tony took a deep drink of his wine, leaving a long pause as he swooshed it around in his mouth and swallowed it. "It doesn't have to be like that."

Peter frowned, confused. What would Tony care about his heirs? Or his citizens? He had never seemed to care about either before. "What do you mean?" 

"I've been thinking about it ever since Gwen... passed. We've been living with this treaty for one hundred and seventy-five years without considering that situations change. Not everyone is cut out to have children." Peter bristled at the implication. Tony probably didn't realize what it sounded like, but he had no right to assume. Especially given his own history. Peter must not have been able to hide his reaction as well as he would have liked because Tony grimaced and reached a hand across the table as if to placate him. "I'm not saying you're not cut out for kids. You're just… in a precarious situation. I want to alleviate it."

Peter pushed his personal opinions aside and took in a deep breath through his nose. "And how would you like to do that?" he asked, proud at how even his tone was given that he was quietly fuming. Everyone under the sun had an opinion about how—and more frustratingly _when_ —he would be producing heirs, and now Tony had opinions, as well.

"Renegotiate the treaty."

Peter's blood went cold. He struggled to understand what Tony was saying, too blindsided by the suggestion to let the rest of what he said process fully. The treaty was the only thing keeping Spider independent of Longueile's rule and financially successful. If that were to change, Tony could easily seize control of the country and destabilize the area within a month. They already controlled enough of Spider's economy. Why do this now? 

Tony continued speaking as though he hadn't just shattered Peter's understanding of their relationship. "Right now our agreement says that all lands are forfeit to the Crown of Longueile, should the first born male of the Parker line die without a blood successor. If you were willing to commit to full integration of Stark Communications within Spider, I'd be willing to ease up on some of the restrictions to the line of succession. Cut out that male heir clause, maybe? Expand out how long the kingdom has to produce a legitimate heir after the death of the current ruler to five years. Doesn’t necessarily have to be through the usual way—you could go the surrogate route if you wanted to." 

Peter was still processing the concept of renegotiation, his mind reeling over the concept of discussing the reality of Peter's own death. Because that's what Tony was talking about, even if he did his best to talk around the hard truth of it. Anna Maria and Sajani were going to have a lot more to say about this suggestion than Peter could manage to conjure up. Peter almost wished he had invited them to join what he thought was an amiable drink shared between close allies. This was not what he had expected to talk about when Tony asked him to stop by his rooms for a drink after the opening ceremony that morning. But then, that was probably why Tony had insisted on a private meeting. "You want to renegotiate the treaty to give me more time to produce an heir?" Peter finally asked, his brain sputtering out the first question he could think of. 

"It's a fair plan, don't you think? I get an expansion of my network, you get a stronger footing for keeping your country under your people's control. I won't lie, we both know I'd jump at the chance to bring Spider back into the fold, but I know it's important to you to keep your country independent. I want to give you a better chance to do that, Peter."

He sounded sincere. It was even possible that he believed what he was telling Peter. But the truth of the matter was that switching to Stark Communications would significantly hinder his country's technological advancement—no matter what Tony tried to say, SpiderWeb was light years ahead of Stark Com, and they both knew it—and the extra time wouldn't do anything to help Peter's current predicament. 

Peter looked at his drink, still barely touched in his hand. What could he possibly say? His hands were tied in the matter if Tony was serious about the request. Either nation had the right to renegotiate the treaty at their own discretion, and Tony had made damned sure Spider's military was a fraction of what they would have to be to wage a real war should Longueile decide to take them by force if they declined. 

So instead of refuting the idea, he swallowed down the entirety of his scotch in one mouthful and stood up. "This is an interesting thought. I don't think I can discuss the matter further without talking to my council. Why don't we schedule a meeting to discuss this further after the Equinox?" 

Tony watched the entire performance with a frustrating twinkle in his eye. Peter was starting to think he was never going to take him seriously, and it only fueled his anger. "We can do that. I'll talk to my people, you talk to yours, and we can meet back at my place on Friday and see what we all decide." As if there was any decision to be made. As if Peter's choice in the matter had ever been on the table. 

Peter thanked him and left as quickly as a leisurely and relaxed stride could take him. As soon as the door to Tony's chambers closed behind him, he let out a frustrated little grunt and kicked the stone wall. How could Tony do this to him? Why did it have to be right this moment, when Peter had so much to deal with already figuring out how to navigate the lava pit of social niceties his advisors had put in front of him without his consent? Tony was supposed to be his mentor; he had always sold himself as a pseudo-father figure, not that Peter had ever believed that. The relationship between their countries had too many pitfalls, too much politics. Always too much politics.

Peter leaned his forehead against the cool brick and allowed himself to be angry for a five count.

And then he pulled his shoulders back, lifted up his chin, and walked back to his rooms to find Anna Maria and Sajani and watch them lose their proverbial shit.

Unbeknownst to him, at the other end of the hallway a tall figure stood in the shadows and watched him walk away with a spark of interest in his smile.

-

Waltz music had never been Wade's taste. Too slow, too many ear-piercing strings, the dancers always way too stiff. Watching all the dignitaries of the ASVC on their best behavior, pretending to like each other, pretending they weren't all plotting each other's demise behind their backs, it was like watching a bunch of fledglings at practice, play-acting at being real fighters. Wade hated it. 

Across the room, his queen was busy making eyes at King Dracula as he swept her around the dance floor, the two of them a graceful pair of swans moving amongst a raft of ducks, while Wade could do nothing but watch. Seeing the victor to the spoils of his country twirl his lady around like he had a right to touch her while she smiled at him and laughed at his horrible jokes made Wade want to vomit. He watched them for longer than he would have admitted, something unsettled twisting in his belly. He stood to the side of the ballroom with his back to a wall and a drink in hand, wishing for the hundredth time that evening that it were possible for him to get drunk. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wade spotted the young man he'd caught in the hallway outside the Longueile rooms the afternoon before. The princeling was no longer the furious figure kicking a wall in frustration, unaware of his audience of one. Indeed, it would be impossible for the young man to be anything but aware of his audience just then. Wade had already heard the whispered rumors surrounding Prince Peter Parker of Spider. Everyone had heard the story of the violent death of Princess Gwen, murdered at the hands of her husband’s rival would-be urserper. Parker had stayed away from the Vernal Court and all social gatherings for the entire two-year mourning period that was considered proper, but anyone with eyes could see that his mourning was far from over. Wade could only assume he was at the summit now because diplomacy required it of him. That, and the rumors.

The young ruler of the Spider Nation danced with dignitaries of all ranks and nations, windswept even in his finery and ethereal, like a small god walking amongst humans. The sea of heads that turned as he passed was unmistakable to witness. Prince Peter had become the talk of the gathering the instant it became public knowledge that inquiries were being taken for the honor of becoming the prince's new spouse. Wade had been hearing stories all day of eligible royals practically throwing themselves at the young man's feet, eager to join his side in ruling over the tiny nation of Spider. The kingdom may have been small in size, but the coffers were nothing to turn away, and with Prince Peter's brilliant mind for inventing, they were only likely to grow. Every royal worth their title was itching for a place at his side.

Wade himself was forbidden to show an interest in becoming a potential suitor for the young prince’s hand, but that was not going to stop him from spending the entire night watching the young man mingle and dance. Parker moved with the smooth motions of a trained dancer, though no one would make the mistake of calling him graceful, exactly. There was an awkwardness to his steps, a quiet anxiety, as if he were aware of all the eyes on him and made uncomfortable by the prospect. His father had been the same, carefully contained frenetic energy that only worked for him in the middle of a fight or a dance. Wade had enjoyed sparring with him while serving in his personal guard as a very young man, but his country had fallen, and he had agreed to serve as Shiklah’s consort before he got the chance to see Richard as a ruler, short though his rule had been. 

Parker's eyes met Wade's over Duchess Beatrice’s shoulder, and Parker smiled a perfectly neutral smile that never met his eyes. Wade could see a quiet despair in them, mixed with something like anger, perhaps frustration. Seeing such unhappy emotions in such rich, mesmerizing brown eyes made Wade want nothing more than to bring a genuine smile to that face. 

He waggled his eyebrows with a head nod toward the beautiful young woman in Parker's arms and a suggestive smirk, but Parker quickly looked away, a small frown overtaking his bland expression. Wade saw him respond absently to the woman in his arms, but those eyes flicked back to him just as quickly, interest and anxiety warring in their depths. He looked away just as quickly once more and swept the duchess away to the other side of the room with another bland smile. 

Wade kept his eyes on the young man–particularly on the way the gold filigree of webbing embroidered on the back of his dress coat framed his perfectly round ass very well—even as Shiklah found him standing against the wall and pushed a glass of champagne into his hand. "What holds your interest so steadily, my love? Is there court dalliance afoot?" She took his empty hand and guided him to the dance floor, forcing his attention momentarily away from Parker. "Is a young prince about to be found out for having fucked a scullery maid in the back garden?" 

"That was me, and it was the serving boy just after dinner," Wade said with an easy smile, holding his lover closer as she turned her eyes from scanning the room for scandal to give him a dangerous smile. 

"I hope his cock was good, because he will be losing it," she said, a bite to her words. 

Wade grinned, squeezing her waist as he swept her into a twirl. "Go easy on him. His cock wasn't really what interested me, anyway." He licked his lips, flashing a wicked smile at her before sweeping in to suck a wet kiss to her throat. 

Her eyes fluttered shut as her hand rose from his shoulder to curl around the back of his neck. "Careful, we are obligated to remain at this gathering for at least another half an hour before retiring to our rooms. I don't think King Sablinova would take kindly to us ravishing each other in the middle of his ballroom."

Wade hummed his agreement, his eyes seeking out Parker once more over his queen's shoulder. The Spider Prince was dancing with Prince Osborn then, the same bland smile on his beautiful face, edged with barely contained rage. Wade's heart clenched in his chest to see it. But as Wade watched, those angry eyes drifted back to Wade's, only to widen upon realizing he had been caught out and turned away once more. Wade smiled to himself against Shiklah's skin and his teeth nipped just so. 

Shiklah gasped softly and clenched her fingers tighter against Wade's neck before pushing him aside. "Not now, lover. The Duchess of Ebrok looks prime for seducing out of her holdings in the south. If you'll excuse me." She drifted away from him without a backwards glance, hips swaying enticingly. Half the men who had been watching Parker turned their gazes her way. Wade sighed to himself and melted back into the crowd, turning his own attention back to Parker. 

-

Parker somehow managed to slip the notice of the gentry long enough to find a quiet corner to himself, and that is where Wade found him an hour after having been abandoned by his queen. "Too many suitors sniffing at your heels, your highness?" he asked, watching Parker's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed an entire glass of champagne in one mouthful. 

The glass dropped and brown eyes locked on him once more, cautious until they registered that it was Wade and not another royal heir seeking to entice his hand in marriage. "My name is Peter."

Wade smiled, moving closer to lean against the wall next to Peter and shield him from general view. "I am aware, your highness, but as a lowly consort, I thought I should address you with proper titles."

Peter rolled his eyes, relaxing further into the wall. "Please don't. I get enough of that from—" he waved his hand in the general direction of the room with a frustrated little frown. 

"Mmm, I've noticed the apt attention you've drawn. Are the rumors I hear of a potential new marriage true, or are they all about to have their hopes crushed?"

"Both. My advisors would love nothing more than for me to marry, but I have no interest. It's too…" His eyes grew ever more heartbroken, looking off out the far window to the garden below, lit by rows upon rows of lamps. "I'm not ready."

"I imagine not. Unfortunate for the eligible princes and princesses daydreaming of becoming the next ruler of the Spider Kingdom." Wade sighed dramatically and lifted an elbow above his head to rest against the wall. "Can't say I blame them. I'd wait a lifetime for a chance to be with someone as beautiful as you."

Peter cut a sharp look at him. "If you are going to spout that same drivel, I'm going to walk away, sir."

"I would never…" he lied, but a raised eyebrow had him admitting the lie in the next breath. "Okay, so I totally would, but have you seen you? Fuck, I'd have to be entirely without senses or wits to not have noticed that you're hot as the sun, and I gotta call 'em like I see 'em. But if that makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop."

"I've known you for all of five minutes, and I doubt that sincerely, but I'll allow it for the moment." Peter relaxed against the wall, tilting his temple up from where it rested on a giant gold damask flower wallpaper pattern to meet Wade's gaze. "You're another ruler's consort, after all. Not like actual courting's an option here."

Wade didn't miss the flicker of interest that passed over his eyes. He leaned in closer, dipping his head down to reach eye level with his shorter companion. "Do you want to be courted, My Lord? Your family never struck me as the traditional courting type. Didn't your dad meet your mom over a game of darts?"

That perked him up. He raised both brows, lifting his head from its resting place to eye Wade with skepticism. "How do you know that? The official record says they met at a lawn party held by King and Queen Stark in celebration of their engagement."

"I served as part of your dad's personal guard before he took the throne, before the shit hit the fan back home, and I had to leave my post to deal with the fall-out."

Peter narrowed his eyes at him like he was calculating something about Wade in his head. "You're from Hellespont?" Wade nodded affirmation, waiting for the myriad of questions that were likely to follow, as they inevitably did when someone found out he was a citizen of the Fallen State. But Peter didn't ask those questions. Instead, he smirked, cocking his head to the side. "So you're old enough to be my father, then?"

"You don't have to call me daddy, though. Unless you want to." Wade winked, and then the most delightful thing happened.

Peter laughed, a sharp bark of a laugh that was loud enough to alert half the ballroom. His eyes squeezed shut while he guffawed, tears trickling down his cheeks, and when they opened again, they sparkled a brilliant burnt caramel color up at Wade. Wade's heart climbed up his throat like a cat up a tree, and he lost the ability to breathe. 

"Do you often proposition people by reminding them that you're the same age as their parents?" Peter asked, poking a finger into Wade's chest with a teasing tilt of his head. The smile remained brilliant and bright. Wade wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life keeping that smile on his face. The rush of it was making him a little dizzy.

"A decade younger, actually," he corrected. "My people believed in training fighters at a young age."

"And no one questioned you joining the personal guard of a nation's leader at what? Fifteen?"

Wade smirked, puffing his chest out a little. He really was proud of that part. "What can I say? I know how to handle a gun. I could show you, maybe?" He waggled his eyebrows, and Peter laughed again, shaking his head and covering his mouth like it was something to be ashamed of.

"What makes you think I have any use for guns?" Peter asked, tilting his head back against the wall again, smiling up at Wade like some kind of forest nymph intent on tempting him into his realm. Wade swayed closer to him without meaning to, no longer conscious of maintaining personal space. 

"I'm not bad with a sword, either."

"I told you I wouldn't tolerate flirting."

"Think I'm flirting, huh? You should see me when I really am."

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. "I can only imagine. Were I Queen Shiklah, I have no doubt you would dazzle me with compliments and innuendos fit to make a sex worker blush."

"Oh baby boy, I can do a lot more than that," Wade teased, leaning an elbow against the wall above Peter's head, ready to take that as a challenge.

-

Wade glanced behind him at the crowd, thinned in the late hour, but still lively. Shiklah held court at a far table, several dignitaries eating from her hand. Her hungry look told Wade he was unlikely to be needed for the rest of the night. "Would you be opposed to finding a quieter place to talk, my lord? Perhaps with less prying eyes?"

Peter glanced around Wade's side at the room, expression serious, as if calculating the consequences of escaping the event early. He had warmed up to Wade's advances as they flirted, but it was still possible for Wade to have gone too far. He awaited the answer on bated breath.

After a long moment, Peter nodded his agreement. Wade straightened and ushered him through a door hidden behind a tapestry at Peter's back, smiling at the surprised look the revelation of the door yielded from his younger companion.

The door led them to a smaller chamber that connected to a small library, filled with dusty tomes unlikely to have been read in the last several decades. King Ernst had never been a great reader. "Aren't you worried that someone might see you slipping away with the widowed Prince of Spider and accuse you of betraying your queen?" Peter asked over his shoulder, giant doe eyes blinking at Wade as if the suggestion in his voice was innocent. 

Wade snorted. Shiklah rarely had need of him at these gatherings. "Unless you have plans to kidnap me and shackle me in your bedchamber for the rest of time, I doubt she'll notice. She looked quite content with the ambassador of Brooklyn." Wade circled an end table housing an enormous vase of white oleanders to meet Peter on the other side, dragging his fingers along the edge of the table and delighting in the way Peter watched the motion before looking up at him with wide, hungry eyes. "Aren't you worried that your suitors will think I'm defiling you and decreasing your value as their future spouse?"

Peter's answering smile was as sharp and golden as the knife Shiklah used to bind him. "I'm counting on it." He reached up and took hold of Wade's lapel, pulling him down into a hard kiss, all nipping teeth and hot tongue. The ferocity of it was unexpected, though far from unwelcome. Wade wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him close, giving as good as he got. 

Peter's fingers skittered up onto the back of his head and clung to his skin with a shock of electricity Wade felt all the way to his toes. The rumors were true, then, that Spiders could cling to walls just as their namesakes could. Wade groaned at the new knowledge and pulled Peter closer to him with fistfuls of the hem of his long jacket, backing him up into the wall of bookcases behind them with a loud bang that neither of them reacted to. 

Clothing began falling like snow, first suit jackets, then cravats. A button pinged against the table behind them and flew off to parts unknown as sticky fingers fought to unbutton Wade's shirt and shove it from his shoulders. Wade had Peter's dress shirt on the floor moments later, followed quickly by his trousers, and then Wade, kneeling in the pile they'd made together, trailing hot kisses up one thigh as he took the prince's growing shaft in his hand and began to stroke it. 

Peter dropped his head back against the books, one hand braced on Wade's shoulder as if he wasn't sure whether he meant to pull Wade closer or shove him away. Wade swooped in before he could decide on the latter, sucking kisses along the hardening shaft in his hand until it was solid and heavy in his grip. He watched the pink head emerge from rolls of soft, pale skin, a bead of precome already waiting for his tongue. Wade licked it off quickly, eyes drifting up to see the reaction, grinning around the head as Peter stuffed the back of his hand in his mouth to muffle his cry. 

Wade got to work swallowing every inch of cock afforded him, ignoring his gag reflex in favor of stealing more whimpers and suppressed cries. Sticky fingers once more clung to the back of his head, helping guide him as he began to bob forward. Slim hips stuttered in his hold, thrusting forward compulsively. Wade grinned with every jerky movement, delighted with his ability to throw the Spider Prince so off balance as to seek out his own pleasure, an action Wade doubted he did often. 

Curious to see how far he could lead this little dalliance, Wade trailed one hand to the cleft of the bare ass in his hands and traced a dry finger over his hole, looking up at Peter's face once more for a reaction. A compulsive jerk of the hips and a groan of desire was answer enough. Grinning wide around his mouthful, Wade dropped his hand from Peter's skin to dig into the pockets of his discarded waistcoat, looking for the small vial of lube he always kept on his person. 

After a frustrating amount of fumbling, he managed to locate it and thumb the lid off. He returned to the Prince’s glorious hole with thoroughly lubricated fingers and began slowly probing the wrinkled flesh, flicking it back and forth with a dull nail and listening to the hitched gasps each prodding earned him. He slipped inside, just the tip at first, looking up once more at Peter's glorious face for confirmation that what he was doing was allowed. Peter bucked his hips into Wade's face in answer, his grip on Wade's head that much tighter. "Fuck," he groaned out around the fist still clenched in his mouth. 

Wade grinned around his mouthful and slipped his finger in all the way to the second knuckle, marveling at just how tight and warm Peter's entrance was. It made him salivate to imagine what it might feel like to have that heat around his dick. He probed, thrusting cautiously until the way loosened before adding a second finger. Peter squirmed under his hands, his hips jerking forward in time with Wade's fingers. 

Wade was just beginning to get into a rhythm he thought he could go all night on when Peter pushed his face away with a frustrated growl and pulled him to his feet, backing him up into a high-backed chair with a determined glint in his eye. "No more teasing. If you're going to open me up, I'd rather be filled with more than fingers," he insisted, pushing Wade into the seat and turning his back to him.

"I wasn't sure how far you were going to let this go, baby boy," Wade told him, hands trailing up the backs of his slim thighs, eyes trained on the hand reaching back to grip his erection and guide him to Peter's entrance. 

"I'm not letting you make a mess of my ass if you're not going to fuck it. Do you know how hard it is to get lube out of dress pants?" Peter growled back at him, fumbling impatiently for a moment before sinking down onto Wade's cock with a satisfying little sigh. "Oh fuck, you're big," he sighed out, raising up an inch before sinking all the way back down until his thighs were resting on Wade's. The heat and clench of him was so tight, Wade nearly blacked out for a moment. His fingers grasped at Peter's hips convulsively, the shock of pleasure blinding. Peter leaned back against his chest, causing Wade to shift inside him, and let out another breathy sigh, twisting against Wade's chest to press a messy kiss to his mouth. "How does your queen ever let you out of bed?"

"Let's not talk about her right now, baby," Wade said, stroking his palms over Peter's thighs to get a grip on him so he could grind up into his ass. Peter moaned, a little louder than propriety permitted, and pushed the hands away. He leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair as leverage, and began lifting his hips off of Wade and dropping back down again in a graceful motion that reminded Wade of the way he danced. He was soon bouncing over Wade's lap like a practiced courtesan, his smooth movements mesmerizing to Wade's blissed-out senses. Every motion was like a tidal wave of electricity shooting up and down his spine, a better rush than any battle, more enticing than any demon temptress Shiklah had ever sent his way. 

Peter's movements were becoming erratic, his moans broken and shrill, his body tightening as his orgasm approached. Wade was so enthralled in watching him that he nearly missed when the door leading to the ballroom began to open with a burst of music and chatter. Peter whipped around so fast his motion was a blur and threw a hand up, and the sound was stifled once more. He cursed under his breath and reluctantly slipped off of Wade's lap, hurrying to their pile of clothing and beginning to throw clothes on without paying attention to what belonged to whom. Wade was dazed from the abrupt departure of warmth and friction and turned to the door to find a perplexing network of webbing holding the door closed. 

"Hurry up! We'll be caught!" Peter whispered harshly, throwing a pair of pants in Wade's direction. The surprise of how hard the clothes hit him in the chest was enough to shake him out of his confusion and get him in motion. He was dressed in a mix of Peter's and his clothes a few moments later, still eyeing the webbing holding the door shut even as a soft female voice called into the room. Lady Watson, Wade thought it might be, but Peter was dragging him out the opposite door before he could confirm. 

The hallway they escaped into was empty, thankfully, and Peter must have known his way around the palace better than Wade because he pulled Wade along with a confident stride, looking over his shoulder every few steps to make sure a servant or stray dignitary didn't wander into view. Wade wanted to ask where they were going, but his heart was pounding too hard to make his mouth work. He hadn't felt this kind of adrenaline rush since the last time Shiklah sent him into the field. Peter navigated hallways with an ease of movement that acted in polar opposite of his appearance, dishevelled and barely buttoned in a shirt much too wide for him (Wade's) and a coat that did not fit him as well with extra fabric bunched up inside it and a collar askew. His shoes were untied, and his socks were sticking out of one pants pocket, only one of them actually his. He didn't appear to notice. At least he'd managed to find his own pants—Wade was fairly certain he wouldn't have been able to squeeze his muscular thighs into them, and walking around a palace full of foreign royals in just his underwear and a very ill-fitting shirt wouldn't look good, even if he weren't hand-in-hand with a foreign prince. 

They entered the guest quarters, and Peter yanked a door open near the end of the hallway that Wade hadn't been in before, half a hallway down from his own quarters, and shoved Wade inside. He collapsed against the closed door with a relieved sigh and flipped the lock, panting from the adrenaline shift. "We almost got caught," he said, looking up at Wade with wide, panicked eyes.

"But your quick thinking saved us. What was that you shot at the door to keep it closed? And where did it come from?" Wade asked, pressing into Peter's personal space and cupping his face in his hands so that he could kiss his cheeks and nose in thanks. Peter's skin grew warm with a blush, and he turned his face away into Wade's neck, his fingers burrowing into the back of Wade's suit coat. 

"Doesn't matter. She didn't catch us." He let Wade trail kisses across his jaw and down his throat for a few moments, soft sighs escaping into Wade's ear, before he turned his head towards Wade's once more and kissed him, hard. "We have a lock between us and the world now, though. Shall we continue?"

-

"You think it's a good idea to stay? What if a servant comes in and finds us this way?" Peter asked even as he burrowed deeper into Wade's arms much later in the evening. "We've already nearly been caught once."

Wade smoothed a wayward lock of hair from his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I think the potential to wake you up sucking your gorgeous cock is well worth the risk, don't you?" 

"That's certainly one way to scandalize the maids." Peter blushed pink at the suggestion, even after three orgasms and the many ways they'd defiled the King's Library together. Wade stroked reverent fingers down his spine and lamented the unfairness of such a treasured human being beyond his grasp for more than just this night. 

"I think they like the scandal. Gives a little bit of color to their boring jobs. Can you imagine spending your whole life cleaning up after rich, entitled assholes? Walking in on a bit of cock sucking's gotta be better than trying to get wine stains out of rugs all day."

"Fair point. I don't like the idea of an entertained maid starting a rumor that could potentially get you in trouble with your queen, though."

"Shiklah won't care. You think she’s spending the night alone? She had the attention of no less than four princelings and the ambassador to the Kingdom of Moon. She has no interest in what I get up to when she's busy." It wasn't a lie, but it was closer to the truth than Wade would like. There was a reason Wade spent more nights alone than not, and it wasn't his ruined skin. 

"I can't imagine caring so little for someone you're supposed to love." Peter pecked Wade on the chin and tucked his face into his throat with a yawn.

Wade huffed under his breath and hugged Peter closer. "I couldn't agree more. You don't need to worry about it, though. Get some sleep, gorgeous."

"Good night," Peter mumbled back, already mostly asleep. Wade kissed him on the forehead and mumbled his own good night, but it was a long time before he found sleep himself. Shiklah never let him cuddle her, rarely let him sleep in her bed for more than just a nap after sex. Holding a body safe in his arms and feeling so much bare skin against his, so much trust in having a veritable stranger fall asleep in his arms. It was a heady experience. Wade reveled in it.

-

Wade awoke late in the morning surprised that he had ever managed to sleep. Peter was still curled up into his side, using Wade's chest as a pillow, and the morning sun had shifted closer towards noon than Wade would have liked. He checked the bedside clock and cursed quietly under his breath. There was a Defense Council meeting in twenty minutes, and Wade was Shiklah's representative. 

As slowly and gently as he could, Wade slid out from under Peter and tucked him around a pillow instead, brushing the hair from his peaceful face and kissing the very visible mark he had left on Peter's clavicle just by his throat. Peter sighed and stretched a little before shifting around to get more comfortable, but didn't wake up, much to Wade's displeasure. He already regretted having to leave this gorgeous man's bed. That he would not be able to kiss him goodbye was a travesty. 

Wade put the thought aside and began to dress as quickly and quietly as possible. He was going to smell heavily of sex when he arrived at the council meeting, but only Logan had a good enough nose to notice, and he likely wouldn't care enough to say anything. He was just pulling on his boots in a chair in the corner when a groggy voice interrupted the quiet of the morning. "You promised me a blow job this morning." Wade could hear the pout even though it was said half into a pillow. Peter's wild hair raised from said pillow high enough for him to send Wade an annoyed look from across the room. It was the cutest thing Wade had ever seen.

"I'm sorry, Your Grumpy Highness, but I have a meeting I need to get to in ten minutes. Rain check?" He stood with a final snap of a shoelace only to be met with a warm body he wasn't expecting pressed up against his. "How did you move that fast?"

"Shut up," Peter growled, pressing him back against the wall and attacking his lips in a fierce kiss. Wade groaned into it, his hands compulsively wrapping around Peter's bare waist and pulling him in even as Peter demanded entrance to his mouth and sucked on his tongue with the determination of a conquering warrior. Wade's skin grew hot under the onslaught and his breath left him, his heart beating so hard in his chest he feared it might explode. 

Peter pulled away reluctantly, leaving a final peck to his lips with a yearning glance at his wet mouth. "Thank you for last night."

"Thank you for that kiss. Fuck, Baby Boy." Wade leaned in for another, but Peter pulled away from him and walked back to crawl into bed once more. 

"You're going to be late." Wade watched his beautiful ass shift as he moved back under the covers and curled up around his pillow, reluctant to leave such a lovely view. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and ravish Peter once more, but there was duty to attend to, and unfortunately, his duty was not to the Prince of Spider. 

"Until we meet again, then," Wade said, stepping towards the door.

"Goodbye, Wade," he said with a warm smile and a flutter of his eyelashes before he was once more deep in sleep.

Wade let the door shut behind him and pressed his back to the wood, taking deep breaths to steady his pounding heart. He could not blow off a council meeting to fuck the ruler of another kingdom. He could not.

Eventually, he forced himself to push off of the door and step into the hallway. And if Logan side-eyed him when he took his seat five minutes late to the meeting, well, that wasn't something he was going to worry about. 

-

Wade rarely spent time in his office, preferring to spar with his soldiers and run drills when he wasn't seeing to Shiklah's needs. Paperwork wasn't part of his role—they'd learned he was terrible at anything resembling record keeping long, long ago—and all the books he liked to read lived in his bedchambers. But on those melancholy days when no amount of sword practice or horseback riding or running drills with the men could shut off the bad thoughts, Wade liked to come up to his small room in the tallest tower and sit by the window and muse about throwing himself off the parapets. 

He liked to stare at the ground so very far below him and imagine what his body would look like splattered on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him, thick and rich red. Would it stain the grout? If the maids couldn't scrub them clean, would the dirt hold traces of him when they pulled up the stones? Wade pulled out one of his knives and twisted it between his fingers, watching the sharp blade glinting in the dull light of overcast afternoon and wondered how long it would take to regenerate. Would they have to carry him away in pieces, or would he revive within the hour? Would Shiklah even notice? 

The view was stunning, the kind of eye line that rich dilatants might sell their souls for, or perhaps their bastard children. Out the window, the entire kingdom unfolded in front of him, the thriving monster metropolis that surrounded the castle, the rolling hills and dark forest that stretched out past the city gates as far as the eye could see in every direction, dotted only with small circles of villages along the roads leading towards the neighboring kingdoms. It had stolen Wade's breath the first day an underling had taken him to see it, but now, it only made him sad. Yearning. 

Across the expanse of trees to the North, farther than Wade had any right to wish he might travel again, the Prince of Spider went about his day with the ghost of Wade's fingers still clinging to his skin. Could he still taste Wade on his lips the way Wade could taste him? Did he dream of sharing a bed the same as Wade did and wake up drenched in sweat and reaching out for a side of the bed that held nothing? When he closed his eyes, was it Wade's face swimming in front of him? 

Wade looked down to the courtyard at signs of activity and watched his queen hustle out of the castle followed by Morbius and several grooms hefting large chests of travelling clothes. Shiklah instructed the grooms without looking at them, saying something to Morbius with a sharp look that had him bowing his acquiescence. Wade thought he knew what Morbius might have been trying to ask and it turned his stomach to think about. He turned his back on the scene. 

By decree, Wade was required to see his queen off whenever she left the castle, but he doubted she would want to see him just then. Impulse had him searching for the letterhead he rarely used and the quill-tipped ink pen resting on the blotter like an invitation. What he contemplated was reckless, more of a rebellion than any number of swan dives from the top of a tower. Any other ruler would have their consort whipped for the very thought. But Shiklah would never notice, and Wade could not stop his thoughts. Relegating them to the page was better than the alternative.

-

> [To His Excellency Prince Peter of the Beautiful Ass,
> 
> I hope this letter finds you well. I know you've expressed displeasure at being reminded of your beauty, but as I have been unable to think of anything else since leaving your bed, you'll have to grant me a few more exceptions. 
> 
> As you can imagine, letter writing is not something I do frequently or am any good at. Put a sword in my hand, and I can choreograph a ballet of violence the likes of which would impress even Duchess Romanoff, but a pen? I have no idea what to do with a pen other than stab someone's eyeball out with it. Which is likely not the type of sentiment you want to read in a letter that is meant to seduce. Apologies.
> 
> My queen is leaving for an extended stay in Transylvania. I wasn't invited. You might think I would be bothered by that fact. King Dracula has expressed a desire to wed Shiklah on more than one occasion. And given his luxurious hair and propensity for violence, you might think I would worry about the competition for Shiklah's affections. In years past, you probably would have been right. But lately all I find myself thinking about is you. 
> 
> I go about my day and think of nothing, but your face. The tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth when you smile. The sound of your laugh, so loud and unapologetic. The electricity of your fingers clinging to my skin (yes, I noticed that. Rumors of your bloodline aren't as exaggerated as the Crown would like the world to believe, hmm?). A butler passes me in the hall, and all I can do is compare the fit of his trousers to yours and find his lacking. I can still taste your come on my lips. The smell of your skin, slick with sweat and that subtle cologne you wear, burns the insides of my nostrils. I smell you all over the castle, but I know you've never been here. You haunt my every step.
> 
> And I would have it no other way. I know telling you how much I enjoyed our night together and how very much I want nothing more than to spend a hundred, a thousand more nights with you in just the same manner is not exactly advisable. Our circumstances, as you reminded me within the first five minutes of us speaking, are not such that courting and a happily ever after are possible. I should be content with the one night we agreed upon and do my best to move on. And if you tell me to do so, I will, though very reluctantly. 
> 
> But know that I think of nothing but your smile and of ways to make you laugh. If circumstances were different, I would already be on your doorstep begging to worship at your feet and spend my days making you happy. Even as they are, I am unable to want for anything else. 
> 
> I hope you do not find this letter inappropriate. I don't want to burden you with my feelings if they are not wanted. But alone in my rooms, I couldn't resist the urge to reach out to you. If you have no interest in further correspondence, I completely understand. You need not respond to this letter. 
> 
> But should you want to speak with me, I would like nothing more than to hear from you.
> 
> Yours in Thought,
> 
> Wade]

-

There was a stack of files on Peter's desk when he walked in that morning, and Peter needed to only take one look at them to know what they were. He slumped into his chair with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple and the dull ache already blooming there. 

"At least they didn't host a ball and parade me around like a show dog at the Breeding Club Showcase," he muttered to himself, picking up the first file off the stack just to see what kind of information they thought would be relevant to him. 

It opened like the suspect file in a police report, a picture of Lady Felicia Hardy of Symkaria that looked like her official portrait. She was gorgeous, her pure white hair glossy and groomed into perfect flowing curls swept over one shoulder, her black velvet dress molded to her curves so well that Peter wouldn't have been surprised to find out it was body paint instead. The giant diamond necklace that spanned from her throat to the tip of her cleavage looked large enough to cover a baby's head. Peter's tired brain could do nothing but focus on the sparkle of it for a full minute before he was able to blink himself back into consciousness. 

The stats page included her birthdate, country of origin, a lengthy biography, and even her measurements. What his advisors thought he would care about or do with such information he could only begin to imagine. But most frustrating of all was the final page, a full listing of all the ways in which a political match between Spider and Symkaria could be advantageous to Spider. Because focusing on what you can get out of marrying someone is the perfect foundations for a long and happy marriage. "You already had one of those, and look how it turned out?" he muttered to himself, closing the file and setting it aside with a sigh. He had met Lady Felicia on many occasions, had even spent the latter half of an evening in a cloak closet with her that ended with him on his knees getting acquainted with her perfectly groomed nether regions. While the idea of bedding her again was a pleasant one, she was much too ruthless a person to do well ruling Spider at his side.

Peter had set aside half the stack by the time his door cracked open and May popped her head in. "There you are. I was about to send a search party for you. You've been so quiet up here all morning," she said, nudging her way into the room with a tray laden with lunch things in her arms.

Peter stood to help her with the tray, taking it from her hands and setting it on a spare empty corner of the desk so he could move the files out of the way. "You didn't need to bring me lunch, Aunt May. I would have made my way down to the kitchens eventually." 

May waved the comment off and took a seat in one of his visitor chairs, busying herself fussing with the items on the tray as if she meant to feed him herself. "I wanted to check on you. What has you so busy up here this morning? I didn't think you had a meeting with the Council until this afternoon. I hope you aren’t worrying yourself over this treaty negotiation. "

"I don't, but they left me a giant stack of potential partners, so I thought I'd at least go through them. I know they think we’ll have better footing in the negotiations if I’ve found a new spouse to continue the line with." He held up the latest file, Sir Eugene Thompson. Peter thought he sounded like a complete tool. 

"Oh, have you found anyone you're interested in? I know you're reluctant to move on, dear, but I do think the Council is right to encourage you. The burden of ruling a kingdom is too heavy for one person to bear. And I wouldn't mind having little feet running around the palace before I'm too old to chase them." 

Peter set the file down with as patient a look as he could manage. He knew May wanted grandnieces and nephews badly, but that wasn't a reason to remarry. "I'm not saying I'll never marry again. I know it's my duty. But I would much prefer to find someone on my own terms, when I'm ready for it. Gwen's only been gone for two years. I'm not ready to give her up just yet."

May's expression turned soft and she reached over the desk to take hold of his hand. His heart sped up, knowing what was coming. "I understand, sweetheart. Of all the people in your life, I understand better than anyone what you've been through. But you can't live in the past forever. It’s tempting to dig yourself a hole and crawl inside and never let the world in again, but that's no way to live a life. Eventually, you have to climb out and let the sun kiss your face." She reached over to the stack of folders and flipped the top one open. "Or maybe Sir Edward Brock of Monstropolis." 

Further reading made her frown and close the folder once more. "Alright, maybe not Sir Edward, but surely there's someone. You're a wonderful person with so much love in your heart. You should share it, sweetheart. Before it shrivels up like an old prune and molds." 

Wade’s smile flashed in front of Peter’s eyes for a moment at the suggestion, but he pushed that thought aside quickly. Wade wasn’t an option, even if they had agreed to more than the one night.

May squeezed his hand a final time with a goofy little quirk of the lips and then pushed the lunch tray closer. "But for now, you should eat. I think you'll need your strength for listening to Sajani detail the finer points of patent law in the new treaty."

Peter winced at the reminder and took up the sandwich she was trying to force on him. May reached for a different file with a fond smile for him and began reading while Peter munched. 

They were interrupted a few minutes later by a knock on the door. Hobbie stepped through the door when Peter called him in and set a stack of correspondence on his inbox. "Mail delivery"

"Anything good?" Peter asked, dropping the remnants of the sandwich on the plate and reaching for the stack. Any excuse to distract May from reading more suitor profiles out loud to him. 

Hobbie gave him a patient smile. "I would never presume to look, sire."

Peter shot him a smirk, knowing that was a full lie and not caring one bit about it. He shuffled through the stack after Hobbie left them, mostly official requests and the like, but there was one. Peter frowned down at the black envelope with his address written in a messy hand in what looked like silver gel pen. The seal on the back was a circle with two indented half-circles facing each other, smaller circles cut out of the centers of each to make them look like eyes, pressed into a rich red wax that so closely resembled blood that Peter wondered if he should take it as a threat. He frowned down at the seal for a long moment, trying to remember where he had seen it before. 

And suddenly his world narrowed down to that tiny seal and a flash memory of the same symbol embroidered onto the breast pocket of a black velvet jacket. Peter remembered stroking a thumb over that symbol as rough lips kissed his mouth and strong arms held tight to his waist. His heart beat loud in his ears, but instinct and a quick glance at May told him he needed to wait. He slipped the envelope to the bottom of the stack and vowed to read it as soon as he had a free moment alone. What Wade Wilson thought he was doing writing Peter a letter, he could only begin to conjecture, but whatever he had to say, Peter knew it was best to find out in private. 

He set the stack back in his inbox with a bright smile at his aunt. "All anyone wants from me is an heir. I didn't abdicate again because?" 

May rolled her eyes and stole the last bites of his sandwich, pushing an open file towards him instead. "This one sounds interesting." 

Peter nodded, but all of his thoughts were on that letter burning a hole at the bottom of his mail pile and the potential held inside its folds.

-

> [Dearest Wade,
> 
> Receiving your letter was the only bright spot in a truly terrible day. I never would have expected it; I didn't think people wrote hand-written letters these days except for official documentation. But as soon as I found your seal on the envelope, my mood improved immensely. You are neither inappropriate, nor a burden to have sent it. While describing the manner in which you might cut someone's eyeball out would not have been my first choice for a letter that begins with admiration for the recipient's butt, your writing style is certainly not without merit. For someone unused to penning letters, your eloquence was… frustratingly sexy.
> 
> I too enjoyed our time together far more than I should have. I agreed to leave the party with you knowing that I intended to bed you precisely because I knew you were Queen Shiklah's consort and could not take things further than one night. The decision was stupid on my part, but not for the reason you think. It was a selfish act meant to appease my body and release pent-up frustrations with my situation while shielding my heart.
> 
> I have been alone since my wife's death. Gwen was the love of my life and the only person with whom I have ever had any interest in sharing my bed or my life. I had intended to grow old with her and pass my kingdom on to the children I made with her. As you likely know, she was killed as a vindictive act against me, meant to destabilize me and steal my kingdom out from under me. And it nearly worked, but that is the subject of another day. The important thing is that ever since then, I have been alone. Intentionally alone. I have never entertained the idea of taking another lover for more than an evening, despite what my advisors may wish of me. This is a decision I made and intended to live with for the rest of my life. 
> 
> And yet, I too find myself unable to think of anything but your face, your smile when you've said something you think will scandalize me. The way you kissed me just before I fell asleep. The warmth of your hands against my skin. The way you say my name, in and out of bed. I find myself moving through my day with your voice in the back of my head, wishing I could hear your snarky comments in my ear instead of bureaucratic bullshit. The running of a kingdom can be very tedious. I imagine you would make the process infinitely more interesting. No one else can tolerate my jokes.
> 
> It is likely ill-advised, but I await your next letter with baited breath and much anticipation. Please do not keep me waiting.
> 
> Yours in thought,
> 
> Peter]

-

Shiklah threw down the missive with an angry growl and turned to Wade. "This is the fifth report of the wolves in the Northern Wood attacking travelers, robbing them, and turning their men against their will."

"Just the men? Pretty sexist of them if you ask me," Wade said, but his fingers were already twitching for his blade. The werewolves in the North had been an issue since Shiklah murdered her brothers and took the throne. They refused to accept the sovereignty of the new regime and claimed that they would only accept a were ruler. Shiklah didn't take kindly to their insolence. 

"That isn't the point. Take care of them."

Wade was out of his chair before the order fully left her mouth. He had blades strapped to his back, a mask over his face, and a horse under him within the hour, galloping towards their last known location, deep within the Northern Wood. He heard the howls before he saw them, flashes of fur through breaks in the tree line and wood splinters flying from angry claws. Three of them blocked the road ahead of him, giant hulks of men half-transformed into snarling beasts with matted fur and blood-stained teeth that should have been intimidating. But they weren't dealing with an ordinary man. They were dealing with Deadpool. 

Wade jumped from the horse as soon as he drew close enough and flipped into their welcome committee with a blade in each hand and ready for attack.

There was blood. So much blood. At the end of it, Wade stood on the throat of their alpha, a silver blade hovering over his heart. The surviving wolves were drenched in blood and injuries and cowered around the two like a snarling pack of feral dogs, violence in their eyes, but all too reluctant to get their alpha killed to attack. Wade dug his boot into Jack's throat and dug the knife tip into his chest, just breaking the skin so that Jack hissed at the contact and snarled up at him, mouth full of sharp teeth the size of Wade's fingers.

"Listen up. I don't give a fuck whether you like Queen Shiklah or want her dead. She's the ruler of this kingdom, and as long as you live in her woods, you live by her laws. Not one more traveller down these roads is harmed, or I'm gonna make your alpha's insides his outsides, and he's not gonna get the chance to heal before I make him into flank steak. Got it?"

"Fuck you, Wilson. You don't have the balls to kill me," Jack snarled at him, snapping his teeth up at him. "You don't do anything your bitch queen doesn't tell you to do, and we both know she didn't give you permission."

Wade let his eyes drift slowly to the mess of severed limbs and deep red soaked into the trees and dirt all around them before looking back down at Jack and digging his knife in just a centimeter deeper, grinning at the grimace it earned him. "You're right, I do what my queen asks,” he said in an overly cheering voice. “ And she asked me to take care of the problem. Guess what you are." He dug the knife in deeper, a yelp of genuine pain following. 

"What do you want, fucking psychopath?" Jack snapped, grabbing hold of Wade's wrist to push him off, but Wade was using all his strength, feeling his muscles pop and repair, pop and repair as he put more force onto the blade than he had any right to be able to wield. He might not have werewolf strength, but he had the means to fake it.

"You're coming with me, and if your pack wants to make sure their alpha doesn't turn into the queen's _bitch_ ," he shot a glare at the group of them with a bite to the words, letting them know just how much he appreciated the nickname they used for her, "they'll keep in line. Leave the travelers alone. Stick to your own business. And follow the law." 

There was a long pause after Wade's speech, the wolves circling, clearly furious, but unable to act. When Wade grew impatient, he dug the knife deeper once more, and Jack snapped his teeth, finally knocking Wade's hand away. "Fuck! Fine! We'll leave the humans alone. But I'm not going to kneel at that bitch's feet."

Wade ignored his protests and slipped a silver chain around his neck, cinching it tight as he stepped back and yanked at the chain until Jack scrambled to his feet, glaring. "You'll do what I tell you to do." He whistled for his horse and tied the chain to her saddle, ignoring Jack's angry snarls. 

But as he climbed into the saddle and surveyed the destruction he had caused, it was like a fog lifted from his eyes and he saw the reality of what he had done. The blood and gore he had spread around the clearing like a blanket, the dead scattered like matchsticks fallen from a tinder box. There were young men in that mix, some likely the victims he had come to prevent more of. His breakfast curdled in his stomach. What would Peter think if he saw the destruction Wade had rendered with such little remorse? Would he speak so kindly to him if he knew how much blood was on Wade's hands? Would he be able to look Wade in the eyes again afterwards? 

Wade tried to put the thought out of his head, but he could think of nothing else for the entire ride home, Jack Russell yelling insults at him with each stumbling step. When he arrived at the palace, he untied the lead from Sir Clip Clop VI’s saddle and dragged Jack into the throne room without saying a word to anyone. Shiklah looked up from a discussion with Morbius and took in the blood and gore that caked Wade's suit with a hungry look, licking her lips as she took him in. "Have you brought me a present, my love?"

"The wolves will keep to themselves as long as he stays in line." Wade pulled the lead hard to pull Jack forward towards the throne and dropped it at her feet. Jack snapped and snarled at him and made to attack, but a flash of flames in Shiklah's eyes had him settling. She stood and approached him, a pleased smile curling her mouth, hungry eyes trailing up and down Jack's body before flickering over to Wade and back again. He knew what she was thinking, but there was no amount of loyalty that could convince him to share a bed with that asshole. Not anymore. 

"You did bring me a present. How did you convince the alpha to leave his pack? I see no signs of loss of limb," she said, stroking a hand down Jack's arm and raising his hand up as if to examine him for fresh wounds. The only one he sported anymore was the slowly healing cut over his breastbone and the silver digging into his neck.

"Not his." 

Shiklah hummed her approval and turned her attention to Wade, ignoring the furious look of her captive. She wrapped clawed fingers around Wade's chin and lifted his eyes to meet hers, nothing but pride and lust burning like a flame in her golden eyes. Ordinarily, they would have already been fucking on the throne, witnesses be damned, but Wade wasn't feeling it just then. He wasn't feeling anything but self-loathing and a desire to shower. Shiklah seemed to recognize the difference in him and frowned, some of the fire dulling. "Well done, dear. I'll take the mongrel from here."

Jack seemed to take issue with the slur, but Shiklah grabbed onto his chain and snapped him to attention with a flick of her wrist, transforming halfway into demon form with a snarl of her own that had him quieting again. Wade waited for her nod of dismissal before slinking away to his chambers and a hot shower, thoughts spiraling out with every step.

> -
> 
> [To My Favorite Peter :wink: :wink:,
> 
> I find myself at odds with my own morality. This is a first, in case you were wondering. Until today, I have always done whatever the fuck I wanted and never thought of the consequences. No one has ever considered the consequences of what they do to me, so why should I return the favor, right? But having met you and listening to you speak about your kingdom and how much better you wish to be than what you already are has caused me to question. What kind of man do I want to be? The kind who follows orders blindly and does whatever needs doing without thinking about it or asking why? The kind of man who could strike someone down without a single thought or hesitation?
> 
> Until today, the question might never have even crossed my mind. But today I did a thing that was asked of me, and afterward, I looked at what I had done with fresh eyes. With your eyes. And I think I know it was a bad thing. I will not go into the details, both because they are matters concerning the Queen and because I do not wish to upset you with gruesome details you do not need. But suffice it to say that I earned the moniker of Deadpool today, as I have every time I have donned my mask and done what has been asked of me. 
> 
> I come from a mercenary society. I was brought up to do what needed doing as long as the money was good. In Hellespont, self-servitude was both an honor and a privilege. We served whoever chose to pay us, and asked no questions in return. And even now that my country has been dismantled and my brethren scattered to the far reaches of the world, I still live by that creed. Go where the gold flows and do whatever needs doing. And don't ask questions.
> 
> When Shiklah offered me a position in her court, my own king had just been killed, our lands invaded, and our kingdom exiled. I had nowhere to go and nothing in particular to do, and I thought myself stupidly in love with her. She gave me a home and a purpose just when it looked like I would never have one again. 
> 
> And that was enough. No matter what she asked of me, no matter how much the doing of it cost, I was willing to pay the price because loving her was enough. But that love faded a long time ago. She is no longer in love with me any more than I am in love with her. I serve as a blade for her, one she can point wherever she likes and can be assured that what displeases her will be eliminated. Occasionally, I still grace her bed, though that has become as infrequent as a lunar eclipse. 
> 
> So here I am. Lonely and unhappy and beginning to lose my stomach for the work given to me. And now I find myself unable to think of anything but you. What would you ask of me if you were able? Would you desire my service? My sword? My body in your bed? I have little doubt I would give all to you freely, and so much more. 
> 
> But even entertaining the thought of life with anyone other than Shiklah feels like a betrayal to my oath and to the memory of my people. I made a promise to stay loyal to Shiklah, and Shiklah only. I was paid handsomely for it. I still am. I should be happy with that.
> 
> Bold of me to assume that I would be happier without the woman I claim to love than with her, but love is a fickle thing, isn't it? Easy to come by, but so hard to keep hold of. I've trained soldiers that were more reliable. Hounds, even. My younger self would be horrified at the very idea of entertaining the thoughts I have now. How dare I consider another life? All I've ever wanted was to find someone to love me as much as I love them. Why I thought a succubus would give me that is one of life's great mysteries. Like whether or not the moon is really made of cheese or how your ass got to be so perfect.
> 
> I make it sound as though I don't love Shiklah. I do. She has many good qualities, not all of them involving nudity. She's a good queen and cares for her people with a fierceness that scares me sometimes. I think you probably share that trait. But I don't know how much longer I can stand to do her bidding without questioning the cost. And all I can think about is you.
> 
> Hopelessly Besotted, 
> 
> Wade]

  
  


-

Anna Maria looked like she was prepping for a fight, her jaw set and her fingers moving fast on her keyboard, her eyes stuck on the screen even though Peter could tell she had heard him enter the conference room. No eye contact meant some kind of fresh hell was on the way to his desk. She didn't even comment on the fact that he was early to the meeting. He slumped into his seat at the head of the table with a defeated sigh, already guessing what the conversation would be about. Peter hadn't dealt with this much pressure to find a spouse the first time he married. And he hadn't had the love of his life murdered in front of him back then. 

Peter fingered the envelope in his pocket, the rough texture of the paper a reminder of the sender. There hadn't been a treaty negotiation looming over their heads back then, either. Peter didn't want to think poorly of Tony, but he really could have chosen a better time to renegotiate their terms. Or he could have just left them the way they were. The 1912 treaty had served his parents and grandparents and great grandparents well. 

He glanced over at Ned just in time to catch Ned's nervous glance his way before Ned diverted his focus to the folders spread open in front of him again. Peter could already see a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. 

If Ned was nervous, this conversation was going to be bad. Much worse than he anticipated. He drummed his fingers on the hard wood impatiently, tension building in his own shoulders waiting for the hammer to drop. Sajani stalked into the room with the body language of someone about to go to war. Peter sat at attention at once, his danger senses going off like a fire alarm. 

"Decided to join us without needing to send a servant to fetch you this time, I see," Sajani said, eyeing him with annoyance as she took her seat to his right. Anna Maria sent her a sharp look over her tablet, but didn't say anything.

Peter couldn't even be mad at the harsh greeting. He could be better about remembering when council meetings were happening and making sure he was at them. "You're right, I need to get better at being here on time without needing someone to come find me. I apologize. If you were in my place, I know you'd be doing a much better job of things than I am. Unfortunately, I doubt Tony would let us negotiate for democracy, and I don't think either one of us would be interested in marrying the other."

Sajani shuddered at the suggestion. "No, I'm quite fine single, thank you. As for Tony, he's been very clear that he wants to repatriate us and steal all of our tech. Which is why we need you to start looking at the files we've provided. There are some very good options for you. Princess Silver Salbinova stands out to me in particular. She's smart and capable and more than attractive enough for your needs."

Peter shook his head. "I like her fine, but she's a decade older than me and she doesn't laugh at my jokes. I don't think we'd even have anything to talk about."

"Talking isn't required for making heirs. In some cases, silence is preferred." Sajani cut her glance away and set a file aside. 

"Look, I understand that this is important—"

"I don't think you do, Your Highness," Anna Maria cut in, glancing at him as she continued to type away at her tablet. Peter stiffened at the formal address. "These treaty negotiations could go very badly for us if we don't have some kind of assurance that there will be an heir in the near future. King Anthony wants us to agree to dissolving the nation within five years of your death, if we don't find another Parker heir."

"And there isn't one. We've checked every birth record in the last two centuries, and there are no potential additions to the bloodline but you. If something were to happen to you, we must forfeit the country to Longueile and all your patents with it. None of us want that."

"I'm twenty-six, for goodness sake! It's not like I'm going to drop dead from a heart attack tomorrow. There's plenty of time for me to find a partner and make babies. Gwen only died two years ago. I already told you I'm not ready."

Sajani leaned over the table, turning her entire body towards him, like a predator poised to attack. "That's the thing, isn't it? Gwen died at twenty-four. Your parents died before they reached thirty-five. Your uncle died three weeks before his fortieth birthday. The people in your family have a track record of dying young. And if it continues, we're all screwed."

Her words were like a smack to the face. His brain filled with the white noise of static and he could no longer take a deep breath. Tears stung his eyes, and he stood quickly before they would fall. "We're done here," he said with a hard look at his advisors. Anna Maria was watching him with sadness in her eyes, her fingers still for once. Ned looked at the floor. Sajani looked directly at him, not an ounce of regret in her face. He walked out without another word, fury fighting with a well of sorrow that threatened to swallow him whole. 

No one spoke to him for the rest of the day. 

-

> [Dear Wade,
> 
> Confession: sitting down to write this letter to you is the calmest I've felt all day. I walked out of a meeting with my advisors this morning, angrier than I think I've ever been in my entire life. As you are aware (as the entire fucking world is aware), my advisors would like me to marry. Soon. They've created a dossier of potential spouses, complete with political and financial benefits, and even their measurements. As if any of that information is the type of thing I would take into consideration when looking for a new person to spend the rest of my life with. When I tried to remind them that I am only twenty-six and have many years before producing an heir becomes an issue, one of my advisors was kind enough to remind me that my own parents died before they reached their thirtieth birthdays. As if I could forget.
> 
> I already did what I was supposed to do. I married at nineteen to a woman I loved more than life itself. I fell in love with Gwen the first moment I laid eyes on her, and I never once regretted marrying her. She was light and bright as the sun. She was one of the smartest people I've ever known, and so kind. She treated everyone she met as an equal, whether it was King Anthony or a young stable boy. She never had a harsh word for someone or treated anyone with anything less than the utmost respect and dignity. And she made me laugh. She could get me to guffaw in the worst of circumstances. She made me a better person.
> 
> And then Norman Osborn threw her off a building right in front of me and laughed at me when I tried to save her and failed. I will never get the sound of his laughter out of my head. Or the sound of her scream. But I'm expected to. I'm supposed to have moved on by now, to have forgotten how hard I loved my wife and how much her death has destroyed me. It was only two years ago. How is anyone supposed to get over something like that? 
> 
> You aren't, is the answer. But I must. We all have to, I guess. If no one ever pushed past their grief to do their jobs, the world would come to a halt. And it isn't as if this grief is new. I've spent most of my life getting over the deaths of loved ones. I know there will come a day when I can open my eyes in the morning and not see her face or hear her voice telling me good morning. Sometime in the near future, I'll forget what color her eyes were unless I have a picture in front of me. I'm already beginning to forget simple things: her perfume smelled of lavender, but maybe also honeysuckle? Or maybe roses? She used to hum the same song every time she was focused on a task in the lab, but I've forgotten which one. 
> 
> Things I've Also Forgotten: 
> 
>   * The sound of my mother's voice. I sometimes watch old videos of her speeches to hear it late at night when I can’t sleep.
>   * Whether my father was a morning person or preferred to stay up until dawn working, like me.
>   * The bedtime story my mother told me every night
>   * What medals my father wore on his breast when he really wanted to piss off Tony Stark (there were two he only wore for State Dinners with Longueile for that purpose, but they weren't so out of the ordinary that he couldn't have worn them to any function, and I can't remember which ones they were or why they pissed Tony off so much. I think one was from Krakoa?)
>   * My uncle was a basic person. He ate breakfast with the kitchen staff and cleaned his rooms as frequently as the maids did. The one thing he could be fuzzy about was his coffee. He only drank a very particular kind of coffee, brewed to his exact standards. He never drank coffee that wasn't made exactly the way he liked it. He used to bring it with him on trips with a travel press to make it himself. He taught me how to make it when I was ten. I no longer remember what brand it was or the details of his instructions. I tried to make a cup a few months ago, and it tasted like bitter acid. He died before I developed a taste for the drink, and now I'll never know whether or not I would have liked his method myself.
> 

> 
> These things weigh on me. They sit on my shoulders and remind me of how much I'm letting down my family and my people. A good ruler, a responsible ruler, would forget all of them, push them to the back of his mind and lock them up in a box to only be brought out on special occasions. And then he would do his duty. Pick a god damn spouse, get married, start the process of making babies. I should do these things. My country and my people are more important than my own personal feelings. There is a stack of eligible humans just waiting for me to pick from sitting on my desk right now. I should just grab one at random and open talks. 
> 
> I should. But I can't. It's all too painful. Too raw and close in my chest. Too much like turning my back on them and pretending they never existed. 
> 
> The only time I'm able to let it all go, even for a moment, is when I read one of your letters. The fifteen minutes I sit at my desk and read your words is the only time I can forget how much my heart hurts for my wife. You give me solace from that. You give me solace from everything. Should that feel dangerous? It feels like it should be dangerous. Neither of us is in a position to be that important to the other. And yet you are. 
> 
> Thank you for being an ear to my melancholy. You are truly more of a help to me than you know.
> 
> Yours in thought, if not reality,
> 
> Peter]

-

Eavesdropping was something Wade was taught as a small child, a useful skill to have when your livelihood depended on how well you were at finding and/or protecting secrets. Hiding her secrets used to be a game Shiklah played with him, weaving layers upon layers of protections around the things she kept hidden with the sole purpose of seeing how long it would take Wade to find them. 

But sometimes, Shiklah didn't make it hard. 

The door wasn't even closed this time. No challenge at all. Wade had long suspected that their games were over, but standing to the side of her office door was the confirmation he hadn't wanted. He stood to the side of it picking at the dirt under his fingernails and listened, frustration warring with something akin to heartbreak in his chest.

"I never expected this negotiation to be so tedious," Shiklah's voice came through the open doorway. "Dracula came to me. Why must he make the process so difficult?"

"The merging of two countries as vast and powerful as ours is not an uncomplicated thing, Your Majesty. You do not wish to submit to vampire rule any more than King Dracula wishes to submit to yours. Consolidation of power takes time. And compromise."

Shiklah scoffed at him, the sound accompanied by the shuffling of papers. "Compromise? Dracula has never met a compromise he could not manipulate to his favor. I hope you understand that we will do no such thing. Dracula wishes to have the vast lands and resources of Monstropolis at his disposal, but what is he offering us? A few vampires to fill out our army? Wade is worth an entire garrison of them."

At least she still found one use for him. Wade frowned down at his hand and shifted on his feet, pushing his anger down until it made him queasy. 

"Transylvania's coffers are not insubstantial. With their financial backing, we could expand our own economy. Perhaps advance our technological abilities to become more competitive with—"

"You know I don't care about technology."

"But our citizens do, Your Highness," Morbius told her, voice quivering as it always did when he said something he thought she might rip his head off for. Wade hoped she did. 

He checked out of the conversation before hearing her reply, the anger and frustration bubbling up inside him until he could no longer contain them. He had the answer to a question he had long suspected. Shiklah was seeking to combine kingdoms with Dracula, and the only way to do that without submitting to his rule was through marriage. Which left him... where? Who needed a consort when they had a husband? 

He growled under his breath and pushed away from the wall, not caring if he was overheard by those within. Shiklah would have already known he was lurking outside. The last secret between them she wished to have him discover, and she didn't even try to hide it. He stalked away, muttering to himself, and stormed down to the practice fields. He needed to cut something's head off. 

-

> [To the Prettiest Prince Peter, King of My Heart,
> 
> Good news! I'm apparently worth an entire garrison of vampire warriors, at least according to Shiklah. I overheard her telling Morbius as much this afternoon. I wasn't supposed to hear it, of course, but Shiklah didn't even bother to close her door, so that's on her. Not that she'll care, since that seems to be all I can do for her anymore. I told you I thought she was trying to form an alliance with King Dracula before. Today confirmed that she is. They're negotiating a marriage contract. It doesn't sound like it's going well, but you didn't hear that from me. 
> 
> I should be angry, right? When I agreed to enter into contract as Shiklah's consort, the job was supposed to function as an alternative to marriage. I warmed her bed, showered her with affection, acted as her personal guard and attack dog, accompanied her to diplomatic meetings. Can't say I'm good arm candy, what with the withered avocado face and all, but I'm a damn good dancer, and not just in bed. We've always worked well together. 
> 
> I'm not mad. Okay, that was a lie. I am mad. But not about the fact that she's marrying Dracula. She isn't telling me anything. And she's not trying to fucking hide it, either. This feels like a weird game where the rules aren't explained and keep changing without notice. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Does she want me to be angry? Does she want me to bang into her rooms and yell at her for hiding this? I don't want to do that. But I do have questions, and I don't think I can ask her any of them. If I did, I'd have to ask her to leave, as well, and I can't do that. Hellspies don't abandon their post. Once a contract is signed, you see it through no matter what. 
> 
> But I still have questions. If she's marrying Dracula, would my contract even still be valid once the marriage took place? Will she still want me in her bed? She doesn't seem to be interested in having me there now. Lately, she spends all of her attention on the alpha werewolf I brought in. Would Dracula even allow her to keep me there if she wanted to? If I'm not needed in her bed, what is my purpose in her service, then? She has armies. I've trained quite a few of them myself. Obviously, I'm the best sword she's got, but with vampires at her disposal along with her own monster corp, does she really need me? I can't sit in the palace for the rest of my life reading books. I'm already halfway to crazy doing that now. I can't be a trophy on her shelf the way so many others are. 
> 
> And there's you. The fact that I am under contract to Shiklah is the only reason I don't mount a horse and ride straight to your door to prostrate myself at your feet. I cannot spend the rest of my life gathering dust in a tower without a purpose when I could be spending my days making you laugh. I can endure a lot of pain. I've survived months of incredible torture. I've died. More than once. More than a hundred times. But I could not endure that. 
> 
> I write this to you not asking for a solution. There is none that you can give me. But it is a comfort to know that I can say them and I won't just be shouting into the void. You are a treasure I don't deserve. I hope your days are going better than mine. And if you need me to stab Tony Stark through his metallic heart, I will do so gladly.
> 
> :heart: :heart: :heart:
> 
> Wade]

-

Just one tap of the pipette and the solution in the dish began solidifying in a goopy mess. Peter frowned, poked his finger into the mixture and pulled it up, watching the tension as he stretched it out. It was stronger than the previous batch, but still too sticky for what he needed. He sighed, scraping his fingertip on the side of the dish and putting it on the counter. The pipette clattered down next to it, and Peter dropped his head into his hands, muttering to himself. 

Behind him, the door to the lab opened and a sharp heel began tapping on the linoleum. He looked up to see Anna Maria standing in the lab with her hand on her hips, frowning at him. "There you are. I was worried that you'd been kidnapped by Goblins." 

Peter straightened on his stool, dropping his hands to the counter. "What do you mean? I've been here all day. I told you I was going to work on the new protective coating today."

Anna Maria clenched her teeth, the dimple in her cheek twitching with the movement. "And I reminded you that you scheduled a date with Princess Belova at 6:00pm." 

"I remember. I was planning to hop in the shower after I finished this last trial. I've got plenty of time—" Peter glanced at the digital clock set above the door and felt the blood leave his face. It was 6:45pm. He was supposed to have left for the restaurant over an hour ago. "Shit, I'm so sorry." He popped off his stool and started scrambling to seal up his equipment, guilt already gurgling in his stomach. "I wasn't watching the clock. I should have set an alarm. I'll have to call her to apologize. Do you think she's still at the restaurant?" he asked, sending a pleading look at Anna Maria. 

"Of course she left. I figured out you weren't already on the date because her assistant called, furious, insulted that we would blow off such a close ally. The princess of a country like Skymaria doesn't get stood up, Peter. Are you trying to actively sabotage our political relationships?"

"No, of course not! How could you suggest that? I didn't do this on purpose. I lost track of time. You know how I get when I'm working."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Fucking right,' and rolled her eyes. "Do you think she'd be open to rescheduling if I called and explained what happened? I feel terrible."

"No, I don't think she's going to be open to rescheduling. You'd stood her up, Peter. You don't do that to princesses. Especially not Yelena Belova. She's likely to stab you as soon as look at you after this."

"I could send her a dagger with permission to stick it in my thigh if she wants?" he was only half joking. He felt really terrible for leaving her waiting like that. She deserved more respect than that.

"She would absolutely do it and then make you clean the blood off with your tongue. I've already arranged for an entire florist's shop to be sent to her. You will be calling her to apologize, though. And there will be grovelling." 

"Of course," Peter agreed, nodding furtively. 

Anna Maria gave him an impatient look. "Now," she insisted, shoving a cell phone in his hand. 

"Right, of course, sorry." The conversation did not go well. 

It was not a good start to his dating life. 

-

Duchess Beatrice was supposed to be easy. After forgetting his date with Princess Yelena, Peter needed this one to go well, or he was going to have to face the wrath of Anna Maria _and_ Aunt May. He didn't need that kind of stress in his life. 

Betty had never been to Spider, and since she had agreed to come to him instead of making him come to her, he had thought it would be fun to take her on a walking tour of his favorite parts of Spider. If this worked out the way his advisors would like, Spider would be her home sooner than later. She might as well get to know it. And a long walk would give them time to talk, something he enjoyed doing with Betty. She knew a lot more about history than he did and always had a quirky new story to tell him. They were unlikely to run out of things to talk about. 

What he didn't anticipate was how many other people would come up to them while they were out. 

"Excuse me, Prince Peter, I just wanted to thank you for visiting Take the Cannoli last week. My business has seen a 15% increase since you posted that picture of your doughnut. You have no idea how much I needed that extra boost," an older man stopped them to say. Peter recognized him as the owner of his favorite bakery and smiled wide. 

"Happy I could help. Your pastries are about the only thing that can get me stop working long enough to eat some days, so thank you." It was only as they walked away that Peter realized he had forgotten to introduce Betty. 

The next time, he made a point to turn to her when a mother and her two little boys approached them for a photograph, but the little boys were already dragging their mother away before he could get out Betty's name. Betty smiled politely at them, but there was a tightness to the corner of her mouth. 

By the fourth time someone walked away without acknowledging Betty, Peter started to figure out what was going on. His citizens normally weren't that rude to outsiders, but outsiders normally weren't part of the royal class of the kingdom trying to re-annex them. He should have realized there would be cold shoulders. None of Spider's citizens were any happier about the treaty negotiation than Peter was. 

He quickly ushered Betty back to the castle, where they shared a stilted meal and Betty left early. 

Anna Maria and Aunt Mary stood together on the mezzanine as Peter walked her out, the two of them watching with matching unhappy expressions. Peter sent them up a pained shrug as the door closed, already bracing for their comments. It was a long evening.

-

Duke Robert ("Please, call me Bobby. Robert makes me feel like a senior citizen.") was unfairly attractive. He wasn't nearly as bulky as Wade, but he certainly filled out the shoulders of his designer suit, and his blond hair was so perfectly styled and shiny that Peter could do nothing but marvel at it. Peter was so distracted looking at him that he found it hard to listen to what he was saying—something about annual growth and the challenges of getting a living island to understand cost-benefit analyses. Peter was never a numbers guy. He had no idea what Bobby was saying, but he certainly looked good saying it. 

The distraction proved more than just rude. He wasn't paying attention when he reached for his wine glass and accidentally knocked over the lit candle sitting in the middle of their table. He bumped it so hard it knocked clear across the table into Bobby's chest and caught his lapel on fire. Peter panicked, reaching for his napkin to try to douse the flames, apologizing frantically. Bobby looked down at the flames, then back up at Peter with an unimpressed look. In slow motion, he raised a hand to his lapel and a small crackle of ice climbed up to smother the flame. When he dropped his hand again, his fingertips were blue.

"If I'm boring you that much, you could have just said. No need to try to assassinate my favorite suit," he said, expressionless. 

Peter sunk back in his chair, hiding his face in his hands, and wished for the floor to swallow him up. 

-

Princess Shuri was a no-brainer. They'd been exchanging quips about patents and critiquing each other's inventions good-naturedly over Twitter for years. They got along so well that Peter would even venture to call them friends. When he asked her if she might be interested in going on a date with him, he wasn't even surprised when she told him he had a date as long as he'd take her on a tour of his lab. 

He'd only planned for it to be a short tour, followed by dinner and an evening at the theatre, but they ended up staying so late at the lab arguing over chemical reactions that they missed dinner completely and only remembered they had theatre tickets when Anna Maria showed up at the lab door looking expectantly at her watch. "I don't mean to interrupt, but doesn't the play start in fifteen minutes?" she asked. Peter knew she only added the polite greeting for Shuri's sake. 

"Oh snap, I forgot all about that. We were supposed to go to dinner, weren't we?" Shuri asked, looking at Peter over the microscope they'd been sharing with a bashful look. 

"Yeah, I guess I should have known we'd get carried away in here. Still want to go to the show?"

"And leave this equation half-solved? I think not. You're never going to figure out this coating without my help, spider-boy." Shuri winked and pulled the tablet they'd been working with closer to her to poke at the chemical formula they'd been working on.

Peter sent an apologetic look over her head at Anna Maria and mouthed 'Sorry'. Anna Maria didn't even look angry, just tired. "Very well. Looks like Otto and I are going to the theatre," she responded, giving Peter a significant look. Peter had no problem with that, even if he thought Otto was a self-righteous prick.

"I hope you have fun," he told her, trying for a smile. 

An hour later, Shuri set down a petri dish oozing over with their first successful batch of protective coating and looked up at Peter with a wry smile. "So, I should probably confess that I only agreed to this date to get a look at your lab. As much as I like hanging with you, the whole romance thing?"

Peter chuckled under his breath, nodding his understanding. "Yeah, I know what you mean. If we're being really honest, I already have someone I'm interested in, but I thought hanging out with you without a major diplomatic event going on around us sounded fun."

"And it was. We definitely need to do this again. How else am I going to earn the world record for most patents owned." She winked at him, holding up the petri dish again. 

"Oh, you think you're going to steal my patents now, huh? My kingdom relies on the income from those. I don't think so." He tried to take the dish back from her, but she held it out of reach with a laugh.

"You could always become the tax haven Tony Stark would like you to become."

"Just throw my morals out the window, huh? That's your solution. I guess it's a good thing you don't want to be our princess, then," he teased back, snatching the dish back with a quick web to the bottom. Shuri rolled her eyes and went back to setting up trials.

-

"The play was phenomenal," Anna Maria announced the next morning at breakfast, sending Peter a significant look. 

"Was it? I'm glad you liked it. I hope Otto didn't try to take over the show and direct it himself."

Anna Maria pointed her fork at him with a glare. "Do not start with me. You've been on six dates now, seven if you count Princess Yelena. I'm starting to think you're messing them up on purpose."

"I'm not, I swear! I just... things happen. I can't help it." He cringed over his plate, unable to meet her eyes. He already felt guilty enough picking dates he knew would never actually pan out. 

"You set the Duke of Krakoa Grove on fire."

"It was an accident,” he reminded her. “He put himself out. It's not like he was going to die. He's made of ice."

"You told Lady Felicia that you're allergic to cats."

"I thought I was."

"She has three instagram accounts dedicated to her cats. They have more diamonds than I do."

"I'm still disappointed things didn't work out with Mary Jane. Are you really certain you two couldn't work things out? She's so lovely. The children would be stunning," Aunt May offered, eyeing Peter over her coffee cup like she could telepathically will him to date MJ. Peter bit down on the urge to remind her she wasn't from Krakoa.

"MJ's looking for bigger fish than Spider. She would never be happy here," he said instead, stabbing a pile of eggs onto his fork and shoveling it into his mouth. 

"How could anyone be unhappy here? We have beautiful buildings. Our crime rate is nearly zero. Our education is top-notch. We're right next to the ocean with all of those beautiful views. The people are friendly and kind. Our food is some of the highest caliber in the world. What isn't there to love?"

Peter couldn't hide his smile at her mini sales pitch. He should really get her to record their travel commercials. "Active nightlife and an international airport? I don't know, Aunt May. Haven't you noticed she never stays more than a day or two when she visits? This isn't the place for her. Not everything can be about how compatible two people are or how pretty their potential offspring might be."

"Well, nevermind about Mary Jane, there are plenty of other options. Princess Moon is lovely and highly intelligent, your favorite trait. You get along well. And with her country's ridiculous patriarchal line of succession, she isn't in line for the throne, so there's nothing stopping her from joining yours," Anna Maria said, turning her tablet around after having typed at it for a while so that Peter could see Cindy Moon's official portrait, as if he wouldn't have known who she was without it.

Peter's favorite trait was broad shoulders and arms as thick as tree trunks, but he couldn't say that out loud in front of his aunt. He chewed at a mouthful of bagel and pretended to think about it. "I like Cindy, but I don't know how long we would last as a couple."

Anna Maria turned the tablet around and began typing again, but Peter was distracted from watching her by a hand covering his, cold and frail but still the greatest comfort in the world. "I know that you've said you aren't doing things to purposely sabotage your dates, sweetheart, but is it possible—just _possible—_ that perhaps your subconscious is sabotaging them for you because you're not ready to move on from Gwen's death?" May asked, cautious and careful and painfully sympathetic. 

Peter squeezed her hand, offering as comforting a smile as he could. That wasn't it, but maybe she wasn't far off. "I don't know if that's it, but I do know this doesn't seem to be working. It might be a good idea to take a little bit of a break, maybe try again after the next summit?" Anna Maria huffed an annoyed noise across the table and gave him a look. He knew what she was thinking. "I know, okay? We're on a time crunch because of these negotiations, but I really don't think forcing the matter is going to help. I'll use the summit as a way to find out if I have a genuine connection with any of the other partners."

"That's what you were supposed to do last year, but instead you spent most of the week flirting with the consort to Monstropolis." 

Peter turned his eyes to his plate and forked off a bite of eggs. "I'll try not to do that this year."

Anna Maria threw a scone at him. It hit him directly in the forehead. 

-

> [Dear Wade,
> 
> I'm a disaster. I've been told my entire life that I am like a tornado of good intentions and absent-mindedness. I get lost in my work and forget to eat. I miss meetings because I'm too busy reading over notes to check the time. And apparently I am absolutely terrible at dating. 
> 
> After feeling like I've been letting my people down for so long, I finally gave in and began the exhaustive process of dating. Courting. Whatever it might be called. So far, I have been on seven dates. Before you grow jealous, none of them have gone well. That isn't true, actually, I enjoyed my time with Princess Shuri of Wakanda, but we spent the entire "date" working in my lab and forgot to do the actual date part, and then decided that we were better off friends and colleagues. 
> 
> I set Duke Bobby's lapel on fire by knocking over a candle. Accidentally, of course, but he was not amused. I completely forgot to go on my date with Princess Yelena of Symkaria. I made a picnic for Duchess Carlie of Longueile, but forgot to check the weather, and it was so cold she nearly caught hypothermia and we had to end the date early. 
> 
> All-in-all, every one of my attempts at moving on have been disasters. And I'm starting to realize why. Every time I am faced with a potential partner, I measure them up to the standard you have set before me. And every time, I find them wanting. Is it selfish of me to hope that your contract with Queen Shiklah will become void, if only so that I can claim you as my own? It is, undoubtedly, but I suspect I will find no equal to your charms. 
> 
> For the moment, I have chosen to postpone my dating schedule until after the annual summit next month. It likely does not bode well that my every thought is of what I will do when I have you to myself again, and not how I will find my future spouse. 
> 
> Your Devotee,
> 
> Peter]

-

“When Anna Maria mentioned you flirting with someone at the Annual Summit last year, it was the first I’d heard of you showing genuine interest in anyone. I don’t suppose this person has anything to do with all the letters I’ve been seeing in your inbox that you never open in front of anyone.” 

Peter scrambled to hide the letter he’d been re-reading as soon as he heard May’s voice. He had been so engrossed in Wade’s story of getting his horse knighted that he hadn’t heard her enter his rooms, and now he felt like he’d been caught stealing a cookie without permission. “I uh…” he said, fighting the heat blooming on his cheeks as he tried to stuff the letter behind his back.

May gave him a significant look, eyes trained on the awkward way he held his hand wedged behind him in the chair. “Like the letter you’re trying to hide now,” she said, crossing the room to join him on the settee. She angled herself to face him and rested a hand on his wrist as he tried to tuck the letter under a throw pillow. “You don’t need to pretend you aren’t talking to someone, dear. If you’ve met someone, that’s something to celebrate, not hide,” she told him, smiling.

Peter sighed, dropping his efforts to hide the letter away. No use in trying to pretend he hadn’t been caught out. He brought it into his lap and smoothed out the wrinkled edges, folding and unfolding it as nervous anxiety still simmered in his belly. “I don’t think Sajani or Anna Maria would agree with you about that. They aren’t a marriage option.”

May looked doubtful. “Because she’s someone else’s consort? That’s easily fixed. We have the type of money and resources available to make a consort’s contract disappear if this is someone you really care for, sweetheart.”

“Queen Shiklah isn’t exactly the most open to compromise. And Wade’s a man. We’d have to get Tony to agree to allowing egg donation to produce an heir. Do you think he’s really going to do that?”

May frowned, but she didn’t seem to be upset to hear that the person he was interested in wasn’t a woman, which had been a whole other reason to hide this from her. He’d already told her long ago that he was bisexual, but being accepting of a potential same-sex relationship in theory was often different than the reality. He shouldn’t have doubted her. “That is a problem, but I’ve never seen you encounter a problem you couldn’t find a solution to. Do you love this man?”

Peter’s heart clenched thinking about Wade and the way he felt just seeing one of his letters, the way it had felt to be touched by Wade, the way Wade made him laugh with so little effort. “I think I do, yeah,” he said, voice caught on the magnitude of the emotions swirling inside him.

“Do you think he loves you?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I think he does.” 

“Then, you should do something about it. Talk to his queen. Find out if there’s a way to cancel his contract.”

“He’d never agree to that. Wade’s from Hellespont. He’s already told me he would never abandon a contract, no matter how much he wants to. It’s part of his country’s core principles, and since Hellespont was repatriated, I think it’s important to him to keep those principles.”

May huffed under her breath, eyeing the letter like it was a direct line to Wade. “Stubborn men, how the world continues to run on your backs I’ll never know.” She looked away towards the fire across from them, nibbling on her bottom lip in thought. Peter looked down at the letter, not having an answer to her comment. 

Eventually, she turned back to him with a new sparkle in her eyes. “Have you heard of the Chivalrous Order of the Silver Spider?”

“You want me to give him a medal?”

May smirked, eyes lighting up like a cat preparing to pounce. “More like a declaration.”

“Of what?”

“Intent.” 

-

_I arrive at noon. Meet me on the roof of the South Tower. I can't wait to see you again._ Wade buzzed with anticipation, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for Peter to meet him. It was pouring rain, but he didn't care. He would wait all day for his lover, downpour be damned. It wasn't as though he could catch cold, or at least his body would heal him if he did. One kiss from Peter's perfect lips was worth the hassle and so much more. 

While he waited, he watched the goings on far below as dignitaries from all over arrived for the Annual Summit of the Vernal Court. The pomp and circumstance was entertaining to watch, if a little unnecessary. Yes, they were all royalty of some rank or other, but beneath all the finery, they were all still _people_ , and no amount of fine silk and gold embroidery would change that. 

"See anything interesting?" a voice asked from behind him. He turned to find Peter not two feet away, his gorgeous smile on full display, backdropped and shielded from the rain by a giant black umbrella. He wore a thick wool coat with the emblem of the Parker Coat of Arms embroidered on the lapel, and his hair was already damp despite the rain guard. Wade lost his breath looking at him. 

"Only you," was all he managed in the two steps he took to reach Peter and sweep him up in a searing kiss. Peter took hold of his sleeve with a soft cry of pleasure and kissed him back just as fiercely. The umbrella clattered to the ground, but neither of them paid it any mind, too engrossed in crawling into each others' clothes in an effort to get closer. 

"That is quite the hello," Peter joked, eyebrow quirking up as they pulled away. The little quirk was enough to have Wade diving in once more, burying his hands in the back of his coat and turning him around to push him into the nearest parapet and shielding him from the rain with his body. Peter's fingers slipped under the layers of coat and dress shirt to clench onto Wade's skin, sticky fingers holding him fast. He lifted a knee to wrap a leg around Wade's waist, moaning as Wade sucked on his bottom lip. 

"I've been dreaming about your mouth for a year," Wade rasped against his throat as he began trailing kisses down his chin and over his Adam's apple.

"Mmm, I hope you dreamed about more than my mouth," Peter replied, one hand moving to the back of Wade's neck to hold him there as he arched his head back to give him more access. 

Wade's hands went to Peter's ass over his clothes and squeezed hard. "I've thought about every part of you, Baby Boy. I can't wait to get you naked." Peter's leg squeezed tight around his waist in reaction.

"What's taking so long, then?"

"Here?" Wade pulled back to look into Peter's face, surprised at the bold suggestion. 

Peter was already panting, water trailing down his face in thick rivulets. "Why not? We're too high up for anyone to see, and the rains so loud, no one will hear how high you make me scream." Wade could feel his erection through all the layers of clothing between them, and wanted nothing more than to rip every scrap of it off until there was nothing separating them. 

He grinned feral and squeezed Peter's ass again. "Want me to make you scream, do you?"

"I haven't been able to think of anything else." Words weren't necessary after that. Wade took over their kisses, hands working double time to unbuckle Peter's belt and get him out of his pants. His lips tasted of sour rain and hot breath, but the taste only made him kiss him harder. 

He finally got the pants open and shoved down into a puddle at Peter's feet, no sign of underwear to speak of. Wade dipped rain-soaked fingers between his cheeks, probing at his entrance to find it already slick enough to slip inside. He dipped one finger in, marvelling at the ease of the passage, and nipped at Peter's earlobe. "Were you planning this the whole time?" he rasped into his ear, pushing his finger as far into Peter as he could to the sound of his soft gasp. 

Peter's fingers squeezed his neck tight and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, rolling his hips back into Wade's hand. "I thought about it for the whole trip here." 

Wade hiked his leg up higher and pushed a second finger into him, hot arousal pushing him into his most base instincts. Fuck. Claim. He kissed Peter again, hard enough to clank their teeth together, but he didn't care. Peter reached down to get rid of his pants as well, shoving them hard enough that Wade could feel the seams rip, but he didn't care because Peter's hand was around his cock in the next instant, slick with lube from Wade knew not where. Their bodies pressed tight together kept the rain from washing it away as Peter thoroughly coated his cock and nudged it at Wade's fingers buried deep inside him, accompanied by an impatient little whine into his mouth. 

"Not enough…"

"Want it rough. Want to feel you inside me for days. Want to know how well you fucked me even when I'm making nice with Lady Felicia and having advisors whispering in my ear," Peter insisted, pushing insistently at Wade's fingers until they were dislodged and then replacing them with Wade's cock head. He let out a content little moan when Wade finally slipped passed the rim and slid inside him. Wade clenched his hand around Peter's ass and pulled him closer instinctively, groaning into his shoulder. Being inside him was like coming home, like sliding into the most perfect warmth and safety. Like he was just where he needed to be. He never wanted to do anything else ever again. 

Peter's sticky fingers held onto his neck as he hauled himself up higher into Wade's arms. He lifted his ass up and rocked back down onto Wade's cock with precision, a determined little frown on his face. Wade was so in awe of him that it took him a long moment to gather his wits enough to help him, grabbing a firm grip of his hips and thrusting up into his warmth. Peter cried out at the first sharp thrust against his prostate, his head falling back against the parapet. Wade thrust again, watching Peter's blissed out expression. It was silly, but he felt like he was seeing the face of god for the first time. He stared at Peter like a love-sick idol, fucking up into him harder with each thrust and marveling at the beautiful way he fell apart with each movement. 

"Wade, oh fuck, I'm gonna… don't stop…" He held onto Wade's skin hard enough to bruise as he began to tremble and shake, cum gushing between them into the open air and quickly getting washed away with the rain. He clenched tight around Wade, squeezing him like a vice until he had no other option but to come, thick and hot inside Peter as Peter gasped and writhed on his cock. 

Their mouths clashed together in a messy kiss that was more teeth and tongue than finesse, but neither of them cared, too wrecked on each other and determined to stay connected in as many ways as possible while the rain beat down on them and drowned out the sounds of their bliss. 

When the initial ecstasy had worn off, Peter pulled his mouth away and just breathed against Wade's temple, arms wrapped tight around his neck and the two of them still joined. Wade never wanted to pull out of his warmth, but it was growing cold now that the fervor of their reunion was settling, and he was beginning to want to wrap Peter up in a bed more. He kissed Peter's throat, the underside of his chin, digging his blunt nails into Peter's ass cheeks for just a moment before loosening his grip. "That was the best sex I've ever had, but we should really get you inside before you freeze to death in this rain," he said, reluctant to let the moment go, but trying to be practical. 

Peter sighed into his ear and loosened his hold, nodding agreement. "You, too. Shiklah won't take kindly to having her consort down for the count because he was fucking a foreign king in the pouring rain, probably."

Wade ignored the reminder of his queen and kissed Peter once more, softer this time now that the urgency had abated. "Come on. I'll make you tea and bundle you up in bed for a while."

"Can I get that blow job you promised me last year?" Peter asked with a mischievous smile, dropping his leg down so that he could redress. 

Wade raised a brow, surprised he remembered that detail of their last meeting. "Whatever His Highness wants, he need but ask," he said with a sweeping bow that was probably made much less dignified by his lack of pants. Peter laughed and swatted his shoulder, nearly falling over because he'd tried to pull his pants up at the same time. 

"I want you in my bed for the rest of this event, and far longer if there is anything resembling a god in this world," Peter told him, still giggling. He pressed a quick kiss to Wade's lips as he stood, buckling his belt haphazardly and tugging his coat down to cover the wet stains. Wade was quicker to dress, but spent a good minute trying to rub out a cum stain on Peter's coat, ignoring the larger stain on his own. Peter brushed off his attempts with another quick kiss and picked up the umbrella, shielding them with it, but the gesture was well past useful. They were both truly and undeniably soaked to the bone. 

Wade made a gesture to lead him inside once more, but as they approached the door, Peter made a pinched face and stomped his foot a little like a child having forgotten that they'd been told no more cookies. "I'm supposed to have a late lunch with the Economics Council. I tried to get out of it, but my advisors would have none of it. We'll have to table our snuggle in bed for after dinner, I think. Would you mind waiting?" He was pouting, his bottom lip glistening with spit and looking delicious. Wade couldn't help but sweep him up once more for another kiss.

"Sweetheart, I would wait until the end of time to snuggle in bed with you. I can wait until after dinner." 

Peter smiled, wide and brilliant, and kissed him breathless, leaning into his warmth like he never wanted to leave it. "Same. If we can't touch base at dinner, meet in my rooms after? I'll have a servant send you a key."

"Exchanging keys already? So forward. What kind of lady do you think I am?" he teased, much to Peter's exasperation. 

"The kind who fucks people on castle roofs nearly as soon as they say hello. And I'm not complaining about it. But I do need to go change into dry clothes before someone sees my cum all over me and starts questioning. I'll see you tonight?"

"As soon as you can get away, gorgeous." Wade pressed a firm final kiss to his lips and followed him inside the tower steps. Peter hurried down them with a backwards glance full of enough heat and longing to warm Wade through. He blew him a kiss and watched him go, leaning back against the closed door with a content sigh as soon as he was out of sight. As stupid as it was, he was more convinced than ever that he would do anything to make that man happy. Anything at all.

After a long moment of floating in his own blissful thoughts, Wade righted himself and went off to find his own dry clothes and an excuse for why he had missed lunch with his queen. 

-

Shiklah had spent her afternoon with her new favorite paramour, the werewolf alpha Jack Russell, and paid no mind to Wade's absence from their planned lunch. She looked mildly confused when he mentioned missing it after appearing by her side freshly laundered and washed of rain and cum. He took it as a good enough indication that she didn't care how he spent his time not by her side. A past version of Wade might have found the realization troubling, jealousy potentially bubbling up inside him, but with the taste of Peter's hot mouth still fresh on his lips, he found he cared little about who else she shared her bed with. The allusion of this being a love match had long faded, and now all his thoughts followed the lithe young lover he was so blessed as to be permitted to touch. 

And touch he did, with his eyes if not with his hands, watching Peter as he had on their first real meeting, dancing with the other dignitaries at that evening's ball. But unlike that first event, this time Peter's eyes traveled to him as frequently as his did, want flashing in them, barely contained by propriety. Wade imagined cutting into his dance with Romanova and holding him in his arms as they stepped together in time with the music. He imagined keeping a possessive hand on the small of Peter's back and swaying with him, making sure that everyone in the room knew that the Prince-elector of Spider belonged to him and only him, and that he belonged to Peter just the same. 

He stood against the wall while his queen flirted with half the aristocracy and his lover entertained the suitors his advisors asked him to, and fantasized about all the ways he was going to take Peter apart when they met in his rooms later that night. 

"You should be careful, bub," a gruff voice said from behind him, turning his attention from where he had been watching Peter twirl the widowed Duchess Maximoff across the floor. Logan stood to his right, a stein of beer in one hand and a deep frown in place.

"What do you mean?" Wade asked, feigning ignorance. 

"You stink of that young pup's cum and rain and concrete. Not hard to tell what you were up to." He nodded his head towards Shiklah on the other side of the room, be-sparkled in a glittering, deep purple gown with a champagne flute in her hand and the King of Transylvania smiling at her with interest. Wade saw the way the two of them leaned into each other, something hot and violent sizzling between them. He wasn't stupid. And no one else at the gala was, either. 

He turned to Logan. "Do you think she gives even one fuck who I bed on the side? She's flashing her tits all over Dracula to get his attention. I'm the last thing she cares about."

Logan's scowl deepened as he sniffed the air. "She'll care if you let her know how far in love with that boy you are."

Wade made a face at him, not believing that _love_ was something Logan could smell on him. That was ridiculous. Even if it might be true. He glanced quickly at Peter, who was watching him over Duchess Maximoff’s shoulder. He lifted his eyebrows with a significant look towards Logan, but Wade sent him a small shake of the head in answer, and Peter went back to his dance. Wade looked over at Shiklah again, but she was still transfixed with Dracula and completely unaware of him. "I don't think there's anything to worry about."

Logan snorted into his stein and shook his head. "Whatever you say, bub." With that, he walked away and Wade was once more alone with his fantasies of Peter. 

When the night grew late enough to make excuses, Peter's eyes met his across the room and drifted towards the door, a question in them Wade was happy to nod his answer to. Peter smiled, said farewell to his dancing companion, and made his way towards the exit, eyes flitting back to Wade with every person who stopped him on his path. Wade watched him disappear through the ballroom doors and waited a polite, agonizing five minutes before slipping out after him. 

When he knocked on Peter's chamber door, it was opened with a smiling prince already out of his jacket and vest. Peter pulled him into the room by his lapel and pushed him up against the closed door to kiss him thoroughly. "I hope you intend to stay the night, because I have no intention of letting you out of my bed until morning," he said between kisses, breathless and warm in Wade's arms. "Maybe not even then."

"They'd have to cut off my head and drag me out against my will," Wade promised.

"I'd prefer you keep your head right where it is, thank you. Unless you'd like to put that mouth to better use, that is." 

Wade squeezed his ass and nipped at his bottom lip. "As you wish," he said, beginning the long drag of his mouth down Peter's throat towards his open collar. 

He didn't leave until morning.

-

Wade took no mind of Logan's advice over the next several days. Peter was all he thought about, all he saw. They spent every night in each other's arms, and each morning begrudging early meetings and other reasons to be kept apart.

On the fourth night of the gathering, Wade slipped into Peter's rooms twenty minutes before dinner, following the directions of a note left for him by a servant at lunch. Peter was pacing the length of his rooms, hands twitching at his sides, muttering to himself too quietly for Wade to catch his words. He looked up when the door closed with a soft snick and smiled bright as the sun. "You got my note, good. I was worried it got lost," he said, crossing the room in three wide steps to take hold of Wade's biceps and reach up on tip-toe for a kiss. "Have I told you how handsome you look in your uniform yet today? I want to drop to my knees right here and suck you off, but also never want to stop looking at you in it long enough to get your pants open. Is that normal? It doesn't feel normal," he babbled, eyes darting over Wade's chest and face with a manic energy a step above his usual fair. 

Wade cupped his hands over Peter's chin and gently lifted his face to meet his gaze. "You're like a vibrator going off in a lady's purse in the middle of church right now. What's the matter? I've never seen you this nervous."

Peter flushed a pretty pink, and he glanced away, trying to shy away from Wade's touch. "I uh… I want to give you something, but it's kind of… a big deal? And could potentially cause an international incident? And Sajani and Anna Maria are both going to kill me when they find out. But I talked about it with my aunt, and I… it's just really important to me that you have it. There's a lot of symbolism behind it that I want to be able to express openly, but it's hard given the circumstances, and I just—"

Wade stopped his rambling with a soft kiss to his mouth and stroked his fingers through Peter's thick hair to soothe his nerves. "What is it, sweetheart? If it's this important to you, I want to see it."

Peter took a deep breath, his chest brushing against Wade's with the expansion of his lungs. He nodded to himself as if making a decision, slipped from Wade's arms, and walked over to the sitting area to retrieve a small, rectangular box from the table set for tea. Wade instantly recognized the type of box as familiar, though it had been some time since one had been given to him. He had no idea what this specific box might contain or what the significance of a foreign prince giving it to him could be. He watched his lover re-cross the room to hold the box up for his scrutiny. It was deep blue in color and embossed with the royal crest of the House of Parker. Wade turned his attention to Peter, waiting for an explanation.

"In 1013, Princess Adela of the House of Parker gifted her favored knight with a token of her affection in recognition of the loyalty and chivalrous acts he performed in service to the Prince-elector's wife. It is rumored that the two were lovers, and that she gifted the token to him as her only way of publicly acknowledging her love for him. For seven centuries, the royal spouses awarded this token to their favored knights, sometimes because they were lovers, sometimes because they were good friends, sometimes because the knight had protected the spouse from great danger. Whatever the reason, the token is considered to be the ultimate show of affection and high regard between a royal member of the House of Parker and their chosen champion. And now I want to give this token to you." His tone was far too somber, his mouth set in a determined little line that made Wade as nervous as he found it adorable.

"As a sign of your affection," he asked with a tiny smirk.

"As a sign of my love for you. Since circumstances make it so that I cannot currently ask for your hand." Peter opened the box to reveal a gleaming silver medal. Wade was too blindsided by the words to focus on what the medal actually looked like for a full minute. His ears filled with a litany of the words repeated over and over again. Peter loved him. Peter wanted to ask for his hand. This was too much, too deep, too fast. His heart clenched in his chest, the muscles contracting and expanding in rapid beats that grew loud in his head and made him feel like he might be having a heart attack. He hadn't felt this overwhelmed since the chamber closed around him on that fateful night in the lab back home in Hellespont. But where that had been a nightmare, this was pure bliss.

"Wade?" Peter said, soft and unsure. Wade's eyes snapped up to his nervous face once more and all the anxiety coursing through him fell away to focus on one very important thing. And that very important thing was to take Peter's face into his hands once more and kiss him breathless. Peter let out a surprised whimper before returning the kiss, his hands going around Wade's waist, the opened box digging into his side. 

"So you want to put a ring on it, huh?" Wade teased when he pulled away. 

Peter huffed a laugh, nodding his head. "But obviously I can't. So instead, there's this until I can find a better solution." He held up the box once more, and this time Wade was focused enough to get a good look at the contents. The medal was shaped like an eight-sided spider web, inlaid with a circle of ruby red spider. The thorax of the spider was a circular silver engraving of Peter's face in profile, surrounded by a circle of writing in a language Wade couldn't read. The pendant was attached to a thick blue ribbon that could be pinned to the wearer's clothing. Wade brushed his fingers over it, hesitant to pick it up. He had been given a lot of medals over his years of service, but this one felt different. Holy, almost. 

"So how bad was Adela's marriage that she had to let everyone know she was horny for her knight?" he asked, unable to abide the weight of what was being exchanged between them.

Peter chuckled. "My aunt told me she was told Adela's marriage to my ancestor was strictly political and not to either of their liking."

"So the husband was cool with her getting dicked down by one of his subordinates?"

"According to Aunt May, he might have also been getting dicked down by one of his subordinates, so yes, probably. Although I'm sure they waited until after they produced an heir before they started sleeping in separate bedrooms."

"And now here you are almost a thousand years later giving the same medal to your own knight." 

"Exactly. Assuming you'll wear it." Peter fiddled with the box lid, not meeting Wade's eyes. "I know it could cause a lot of problems with Shiklah. It's a lot more public than we've been, and probably a lot more public than we should be, but I wanted to give you something, and this seemed like it sent the best message I could possibly send? I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, and this was just supposed to be a fling or—"

Wade cut him off again with a kiss, not wanting him to get any more worked up than he already was without getting them both naked first. Peter settled into his arms with a soft noise, kissing back with enthusiasm. "Fuck what Shiklah or anyone else is going to say. I would be proud to wear your beautiful face on my breast for everyone to see."

Peter beamed at him. "So, you'll wear it?" he asked, leaning back enough to lift the medal out of its case and hold it up to Wade's chest.

Wade winked at him, his arms still firmly around Peter's waist. "Pin it on me, baby." 

Peter pinned the medal at the end of his honors, careful to make sure it lined up straight with the others and laid flat against his chest, a tiny pleased little smile playing on his lips. 

"What's it called, anyway?" Wade asked when it was done, looking down at the shiny silver adorning his chest. 

"The Chivalrous Order of the Silver Spider."

Wade hadn't heard of that one, but it made sense if no one had been given it in over three hundred years. Peter leaned up to kiss him once more, the box snapping shut at his back as Peter wrapped his arms around his neck. 

They kissed so long that they almost missed the dinner bell. Neither minded.

-

Wade was so distracted with thoughts of Peter, making plans in his head about what he would do with his lover later than evening, that he didn't notice Shiklah standing behind his chair for several long minutes. When he glanced up, it was to violet eyes narrowed on his head and a hard-set frown. "Shiklah, honey, I didn't see you there. Aren't you supposed to be at a dinner with the Prime Minister of Lupine?" he asked, turning in his high-backed chair to give her his full attention. 

She was dressed in the low-cut deep violet silks that matched her eyes and showed off nearly as much skin as it covered, making her look every bit as enticing as a set of prize weapons on a pedestal with a do not touch sign. For once, Wade had no interest in touching. "Is he worth the treason you commit every night in his bed?" she asked, ice crystallizing around every word. 

Wade didn't understand the question, but the accusation was enough to have him out of his chair and facing her fully. "What are you talking about?" 

"The boy prince of Spider. The time you spend between his thighs, is it worth the betrayal of your queen?" She said it with the same frigid anger she had used to accuse her brothers of high treason just before executing them with her bare hands and taking the crown for herself. Wade had been unable to keep his hands off her back then, so turned on was he by the show of vicious power. But now, it left him hot with anger instead of arousal. 

"Since when is fucking someone else a betrayal? You've barely touched me in over a year. You've bedded more people in the time that we've been in this castle than I have in the last decade."

Shiklah narrowed her eyes further on him, literal flames appearing at the edges of her eyelashes. "I am your queen. Whom I choose to share my bed with is none of your concern."

"But I fuck one little twink, and I'm committing treason? Bullshit," he snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest to restrain himself from grabbing a weapon, his blood practically boiling. 

Shiklah raised a careful eyebrow at him, the flames flickering faster with the movement. "A twink, is he? Am I expected to believe you are not in love with this so-called twink?" She said the word like it was the name of a peasant attempting an audience, dirty and beneath her notice. "You taste of tenderness and yearning. _Devotion_ , even." As if the concept was blasphemous.

And the most infuriating part was that he couldn't deny it. He was absolutely, unequivocally in love with Prince Peter Parker of Spider. And knowing that, letting it smack him in the face so forcefully he nearly let it knock him down, took all the wind out of his sails. He deflated like a dehydrated peace lily and dropped his arms to his sides. It was a betrayal, of his vow to remain loyal only to her, of the country he agreed to aid in all things, of the man he had promised her all those years ago that he would be for her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling tears prick his eyes. 

"Morbius is returning to the Palace to attend to the final preparations for my next trip to Transylvania in the morning. You will accompany him. And when you arrive, you will stay on palace grounds from now on unless I permit otherwise. You will not escort me to political functions. You will not write to foreign rulers for any reason that I do not deem appropriate." She crossed the short distance between them and took his chin in her hands, sharp nails digging into his skin until they drew blood. "And you will never speak that boy's name in my presence again. Do we have an understanding?"

Wade's heart was in his throat, but he managed to swallow around it enough to nod and voice his agreement. He had made a vow to be loyal only to her, and he would keep it, no matter what his heart said. She gave him one last hard stare before letting him go and walking away with a sweep of fine silk and a cloud of perfume that clung to the air for long after she was gone.

Wade collapsed back in his seat with a woosh of air and dropped his head in his hands. "Fuck."

-

Peter awoke from a fitful sleep, the first night in a week that he hadn't shared his bed with Wade, and marveled at the concept. Wade had told him he would meet him in the atrium after dinner, but an hour had passed with no sign of him, and Peter had been unable to find an excuse when Lady Watson asked him to join her and Lord Osborn to tour the gardens. Now, Peter was tired and achy from being unable to settle all night, and all he wanted to do was find his lover and find out where he had gotten off to. 

The thought brought him up short. He had no right to demand Wade's time, and yet he couldn't help the thought. They had so few nights together, and all Peter wanted to do was curl up in his strong arms and never leave them. He knew what this was, had felt it before. Love, dangerous on a good day. His senses told him today was not a good day.

He climbed out of bed and dressed quickly, intent on finding Wade. A nagging buzz at the back of his head would not leave his mind quiet. Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

He snagged a passing kitchen boy down the hall from his rooms. "Have you seen Queen Shiklah this morning?"

"She is still abed, Your Highness. Should I let her maid know you wish to speak with her?" the boy asked, eyes darting to the tray heavily ladened with half-empty plates. His arms trembled under the weight. 

"No, thank you. Do you know if her consort is with her?"

"Cook didn't send up breakfast for him this morning." His eyes drifted to Peter's door and back to him, the implication clear. He had likely brought Wade’s breakfast to Peter's rooms all week, after all.

"Right, thank you. Carry on," he said, dismissing the boy quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was fuel whatever rumors were already alive in the servants' quarters about him and Wade. He turned down the hallway in the opposite direction of the kitchen boy, trying to think of a place he might find Wade. He went down to the courtyard used for sparring practice, but the soldiers already hard at work in their drills did not report having seen him that morning—or much of that week, as Sir Johnny told him with a knowing wink. 

Peter had to hide his blush by pretending to scratch his forehead and thanked him quickly before leaving to his rooms once more. The rumors had spread by the time Peter reached his sitting room. The Succubus Queen's chief advisor and consort had left the event early. Rumor had it there were preparations being made for the Queen to form an alliance with the vampires. The marriage Wade had alluded to on more than one occasion. Which made Wade's departure all the more strange. 

Peter sat in the reading nook by the window overlooking the courtyard and stared out into the gloomy afternoon, lost in the puzzle of his lover leaving without at least saying goodbye. Why would Wade be needed in preparing for the alliance? He wanted no part of the marriage, had openly admitted to disliking the vampire king—with good reason, the man had dismantled Wade’s country and forced him into exile. Nevermind that he was a pompous asshole. Peter did everything he could to avoid interacting with him himself. Wade was the Queen's Consort. By rights, he should have no part in her marriage to another man. Whether he still had feelings for the queen or not, he had entered into their agreement with the assumption that it was a love match. Wouldn't helping arrange her marriage to someone else be seen as a public slap to the face of that? 

Did this mean that Wade now agreed with the alliance? He had been in open defiance of his queen in so publicly flirting with Peter. There had been little hiding of their affection for one another, or the fact that they were sharing a bed. Had Shiklah taken issue with that and confronted him? She had every right to be upset if she had. Peter was the ruler of a foreign country, Wade had sworn allegiance to serve Monstropolis and only Monstropolis when he agreed to be her consort. Was this Wade's way of acknowledging that? Was he choosing Shiklah and Monstropolis over Peter by assisting with the alliance? 

A small crack formed in Peter's heart and only grew wider as he thought over the possibilities. If Wade was agreeing to the alliance, that meant he had chosen his allegiance to Shiklah over whatever feelings he might have held for Peter. Feelings Peter had thought matched his own, summed up and totaled into… love. 

Peter stared out into endless fog and faced the reality of his feelings. He was hopelessly, fiercely, steadfastly in love with Wade Wilson. And it was possible, devastatingly possible, that Wade didn't love him back.

By late afternoon, he had composed a letter. By late evening, he had decided he could never be so selfish as to send it. By very late that night, he went to bed heartbroken. He didn’t sleep.

-

> ~~~~
> 
> ~~To the Man Who Holds My Heart,~~
> 
> ~~I am writing to you in hopes that I am not too late in saying that I am completely and utterly in love with you, in case I had not made that clear perviously. It is a betrayal of the allegiance my country holds with your queen, I know this, but I cannot deny my feelings. I love you as fiercely as I have ever loved anyone or anything. And until this morning, I thought hoped perhaps that you felt the same.~~
> 
> ~~But last night I went to bed alone after having waited for you for over an hour, and I woke up from a restless sleep this morning in an empty bed, cold and without your arms to hold me. And now I have found that you left the castle this morning without notice and without saying goodbye. Please tell me this is not what I think it is.~~
> 
> ~~All my fears are telling me that I was wrong about you. That you never loved me and only used me as a means to pass the time. But that cannot be true. You held me like I was the most precious thing in the world. You kissed me like it was the only important thing you've ever done. The way you look at me is like a man lost in the desert finding his first drink of water in days. I have felt your love in every brush of your fingers against my skin, heard it in the way you say my name when we are alone.~~
> 
> ~~If I was wrong, I apologize, but I can't believe I am. Please tell me this is all a big misunderstanding. I'll do anything to get you back by my side.~~

-

There were no more werewolves in the forest. 

Correction: there were no more rogue werewolves in the forest. Submission earned in blood and violence was still submission, and Wade had made it his mission to appease his queen's anger by making sure she had theirs. The wolves would not look at him. They only spoke his name in fear. He didn't care. They were quiet now. And they did not raid the travelers who passed through their forest homes. Fear was enough.

When it was done, Wade focused on ensuring the soldiers were as well-trained as the finest armies in the world, whether they wanted to be or not. If they objected, they found themselves on the Queen's doorstep, unemployed and swordless. Wade had no time for complaints or slacking off. 

When he was needed in his queen's bed, he went without protest or hesitation. He did his duty and pleased his queen. 

He did not think about soft brown hair or smiles that made his heart melt. He did not think about jokes that made him laugh so hard that he spit wine halfway across a room or a mouth as hot as fire across his skin. He definitely didn't think about strong thighs around his hips or the desperate way a certain man said his name in his ear while he begged. Or how much better those hands felt on his skin than Shiklah's. 

And he did not ask about Dracula. 

-

Peter had been back in the palace for a month and still there had been no word from Wade. No messages explaining his absence. No contact whatsoever. Peter was trying to bury himself in work, letting the business of running a kingdom consume his entire brain so that he had no more space to fret and worry over Wade, or even to rage and cry over his broken heart. By all outward accounts, he was handling things well. The latest draft of the new treaty had been sent over from Longueile, and Peter was doing everything he could to discuss revisions and negotiation tactics without losing his mind. No one seemed to suspect that he had just had his heart ripped out of his chest and thrown into his face. But he spent more time on the rooftops than indoors some days, and people were likely to notice soon.

"Quiet these days," Peter overheard through an open window. He had climbed from his balcony to get away from May's prodding questions and insistence on putting food in his belly, and had perched above an overhang in the servants' quarters. It was just enough cover that no one would see him if they looked up from the ground, and had enough of a seat that he didn't have to worry about clinging to the wall. And apparently, it afforded him the ability to eavesdrop.

"Mmm, like when Queen Gwen was killed. Highness gets quiet when he's sad. Don't blame him. Hobbie said the way he and that consort looked at each other could melt ice caps."

"Consort? The Monster Queen's consort? Those rumors were true?" Peter recognized the lilt in the woman's voice: Margaret, May's handmaiden. The other voice must have been Mindy, then. 

"According to Hobbie. That queen's consort was in His Highness' bed every morning when he brought the day’s itinerary. They spent every moment they could of that event in each other's company. And His Highness has been receiving letters from the Monster Kingdom since last year's event."

"Hobbie’s reading the Prince’s emails now?"

"Hand-written letters. Gets them every few days. Or he did. There hasn't been anything since the gathering, according to Hobbie."

"But that's so romantic. Amanda's never written me a love letter. She's never even sent me an 'I love you' over text."

Mindy hummed her own opinion on that. "It's done now, however romantic it was. The Monster Queen sent her consort away in the middle of the event after some kind of fight. One of the maids overheard them yelling at one another and the Queen sounded furious. Hobbie thought she might be jealous."

Peter buried his head in his hands, confusion drowning out the rest of what they were saying. Wade hadn't left on his own? But Shiklah had told Queen Elise that she sent him ahead to help Morbius prepare an alliance with the Vampires. Peter had understood that the proposed alliance involved a marriage between Shiklah and the Vampire King Dracula. It was the whole reason Peter felt no guilt in monopolizing Wade's time during the conference. Shiklah would soon have no need of Wade's companionship. Wade had made it clear that he believed Shiklah no longer loved him any more than he loved her. What could they have been fighting about? Wade had good reasons to dislike the alliance, but would he have brought them to her door? 

What could Shiklah have been jealous of? Peter himself? 

Peter's hands slid from his face as a thought niggled at his brain. A memory of the way Shiklah’s eyes had narrowed on the Silver Spider when Wade had entered the banquet hall the night Peter had given it to him. Peter had thought it was merely anger that he had received a foreign honor without her knowledge, but perhaps there was more. Had Wade been wrong in assuming that Shiklah no longer loved him? And if so, why would she be seeking to marry another ruler? Her kingdom was as large as Transylvania, her army arguably fiercer. Wade made it sound like a love match, one that he felt guilty for not having resented as much as he should have, given his station. That couldn't have been what the fight was about. What could possibly have made Shiklah send him away? 

And if Wade had been fighting with her over jealousy, _her jealousy_ , did that mean what Peter hoped it meant. Did Wade love him after all?

Energized for the first time in weeks, Peter launched himself off the overhang and swung down and around the castle to the stables, not caring who saw him. He had answers to get, and he was going to get them in person. 

"It isn't very becoming of you to swing around the castle like a sullen child," Anna Maria told him, standing with her tablet in hand at the closed door to the stables. Her mouth was pinched in a familiar expression, her gaze knowing. One day he would figure out how she knew where he was at all times, but not today. 

"I have business to attend to, Anna Maria. I'll be back in a day or two," he said, pushing one of the doors open without looking directly at her. If he looked at her, she would do her guilt stare and convince him to stay and tend to his responsibilities. He didn't have time for that.

"Whatever you're planning to do, I can already tell it's a stupid idea. We have dignitaries who can handle foreign relations for you."

Peter was not arguing about this. "I respect what you're saying, but I have to do this myself. Unless there's a literal fire that needs putting out, I trust you to be able to run the kingdom in my absence. You'll definitely do a better job than I will, anyway." 

"I know I will, but that doesn't change the fact that your duty is to remain here and take care of things yourself. You've barely been present for weeks. You think the Council hasn't noticed you shirking your duties? This was understandable when your wife died, but it's been two years, Peter. You can't fall into another depression hole. The kingdom needs you." She took his wrist, a rare breach of decorum that forced him to look her in the eyes. He took a deep breath, shoving the frenetic energy coursing through his veins down so that he could speak rationally, find some way to make her understand. 

"I know I've been a mess lately, but I've been dealing with something I can't explain to you. I've just come into some news, and I need to see it through to the end, to find out if what I think it means is true. This kingdom, my people mean more to me than nearly everything. I would never leave it without good reason, you know that. I promise, it will be worth it," he assured her, sliding one hand over her much smaller one. She stared into his eyes for one long, hard moment before nodding to herself and letting him go.

"Fine, go do whatever it is you need to do. But if the kingdom collapses around me while you're gone, I'm telling them you set up the sink hole." 

Peter shook his head with an exasperated smile and bussed her cheek. "I'll swing down to pull you out of it as soon as I get back, I promise." 

"Too many promises," she muttered, watching him leave her side to approach a sleek red sports car with the Parker House Crest embossed on the hood. "Not that one. You don't know how to drive stick yet. And that one will never make it through the Southern Forests. The werewolves will spot it a mile away and peg you for an easy mark. Take my car." 

She pointed towards a tiny blue thing, well-maintained but old and worn-looking. Peter sent her a sharp look as he approached. "Did your salary take a hit I wasn't told about?"

She shrugged, attention already back on her tablet and her work. "I like to be discreet. Don't knock it when it gets you close to Monster Metropolis without a delegation of soldiers."

"How do you know where I'm going?" he asked, hesitating over the keys hanging from a hook in the wall next to the parking spot. 

Anna Maria gave him a withering look over her tablet. "Drive carefully. If something happens to it, you'll be doing the repairs yourself."

Peter decided it was best not to press his luck. He nodded his agreement as he grabbed the keys and was in the driver's seat starting the engine before she had time to turn away. He pulled up beside her as she was walking back towards the palace and rolled the window down. "Thank you for understanding."

She gave him a passive glance before waving him away. "Just don't make a fool of yourself in front of Queen Shiklah. We still have trade agreements to get through next summer if we're ever going to have enough acetic acid to expand production lines by next summer."

"I'll do my best." 

Anna Maria was already walking away, muttering to herself as she flicked something away on her tablet with an impatient hand. Peter turned the car towards the palace gates with a glance through the mirror and was off in the direction of Monstropolis. 

-

Morbius looked like he wanted to suck Peter dry when he stepped into the foyer of Mogwai Palace. Peter swept the bangs from his forehead and flashed him his best smile. "Morbius, how are you? You look like you enjoyed your visit to Transylvania."

"I was unaware that Queen Shiklah had scheduled an audience with the Principality of Spider. And without an escort? One might think you come to our doorstep seeking to be bitten."

Peter let that threat roll off his back, not letting his smile drop for a second as he approached Morbius. "This isn't a state-sanctioned visit. I would like to speak with your queen about a private manner, if she is available."

"Queen Shiklah does not interrupt her schedule to discuss private matters with principalities, Your Highness."

"That's fine. I can wait until she has time, if she's busy." Peter turned away from him and took a seat on a bench near the front door, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a patient look up at Morbius. Morbius' mouth was pinched so tight his lips had turned white. He observed Peter for an uncomfortable few minutes before turning and walking away. Peter shrugged to himself and pulled up his email. If he had to wait, he could do that. And maybe if he waited long enough, Wade would appear from wherever he spent his days. 

-

Peter had answered fifteen emails and read through the proposed revisions to the treaty by the time Morbius returned to the foyer, face still pinched in irritation, a clipboard in his hand. "Her Majesty wishes to know how long His Highness intends to loiter in our sanctuary."

Peter lowered his phone with a quirked eyebrow. "Am I loitering? I thought I was waiting for her to find time to meet with me."

"As I mentioned before, you do not have an appointment. The Queen will not be meeting with you today."

"If she doesn't have any time today, I don't mind returning tomorrow. I have a very important matter I would like to discuss with her." 

Morbius gave him a disinterested look, but the tips of his fingers had turned blue at the edges of the clipboard from how hard he was clenching them. "And that matter would be?"

"As I said before, it's a private matter. But I can assure you, it is in her best interest to speak with me. I have a proposition for her that I believe she will find beneficial to her… current diplomacy efforts." Peter had had a long drive to think about how he was going to get Shiklah to relinquish her consort. He was fairly sure he'd found an angle she would find hard to pass up, but he wasn't about to tell Morbius what it was. 

"Current diplomacy efforts, Your Highness? What efforts do you believe those to be?"

Peter stared him down for a long moment. "Do you normally spend months at a time away from your own kingdom for fun? Last I checked, Transylvania isn't the sunshine and beaches they advertise." 

Morbius' eyes actually flashed blood-lust red. He took a deep breath and smoothed down the quarters of his suit jacket with the hand still holding the clipboard. "Excuse me," he said, a hint of fang lisping his words. He spun on his heel and stalked back out of the foyer quickly. 

A few minutes later, a winged imp appeared in front of Peter and hovered above him. "Her Majesty, Queen Shiklah of Monstropolis requests your presence," the tiny thing said in what was definitely Morbius' voice. 

He grinned up at them and stood, sweeping a hand in front of him in invitation for the imp to lead him to the queen. "I'm glad she's interested in hearing my proposal. I assume you will be showing me the way?" he asked, following behind the flying creature. They were pea green with iridescent scales, their wings the size of Peter's palms compared to their soccer-ball-sized body. Peter had seen them perched on the Queen's shoulder at Alliance meetings. "Do you enjoy living in Monster Metropolis? It seems like it might get too cold for a reptile. You are a reptile, right? I'm just guessing from the scales and the fact that you look sort of like a chameleon. I apologize if that was an inappropriate question. I have a tendency to forget my manners when I find something interesting."

"BRGM," the creature squeaked, a thin stream of fire spurting from their mouth. Which is about when Peter remembered the creature couldn't actually talk. He glanced away to hide his embarrassment; Shiklah was likely watching him through the creature's eyes. Or at least there was a rumor that that was a thing she was capable of doing. 

"Sorry," he said, eyes trained on the sconces shaped like gargoyle heads as they walked down a long hallway full of dark woods and not much light. He kept watch for signs of Wade, but no one crossed their path. Peter began to wonder if perhaps Shiklah had Wade hidden away somewhere. He couldn't imagine living in such a dark, dreary place. The castle had it's drafty hallways and admittedly more spiders than a normal person might be comfortable with—Gwen had never been a fan of them, and neither was Aunt May—but at least there was natural light, and everything that could be a light, airy color was made so. His castle was warm and soft and welcoming, where this palace felt like it was built to drive people away. And perhaps it had been, given that the 'people' Peter automatically treated as default were human. Not exactly an inclusive way of seeing the world. Peter tucked it away and reminded himself to do his best to be more expansive in his thoughts from then on. It likely didn't help that Monstropolis' access to modern electricity and lighting were limited thanks to the hefty embargoes set upon them by Longueile and their allies. He was fairly certain they were still using a direct current system. Spider’s alternating current system could expand out their electricity capabilities to even the most remote citizens.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by the opening of an intricately carved door in front of them. The creature flew through it without hesitation, and Peter assumed he was meant to follow. He stepped into a formal sitting room full of rich purple velvet and mahogany. The stretch of wall directly across from the door held a massive painting of the Queen in a slinky silk dress in her signature purple and black, the flying lizard on her shoulder, and Wade standing at attention at her side in his finest formal suit, his left breast adorned with a string of medals and accolades that spanned from his collar bone to his diaphragm. Peter couldn't help the thought of how handsome he looked and how very much Peter longed to see him in that suit in person once more.

The Queen herself stood in front of the painting in a similarly revealing dress, her hair swept over one shoulder, her hand draped over the top of a high-backed chair. "Prince Peter, I would say it is a pleasure to see you once more, but we both know that for a lie. Morbius informs me that you have a proposition for me that could be beneficial?"

Peter ignored the impolite greeting and approached her with a smile and a bow worthy of her station. Whether or not she intended to use niceties was not going to affect how he used them. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Your Majesty. I realize it is an unprecedented event for the Prince-elector of Spider to visit your kingdom without a formal appointment and without giving you prior notice, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you that I believe you will find important enough to forgive my impropriety."

"And that matter is…?" 

Peter glanced at the chair she stood next to and the matching one set across from it. "Might we sit? This could take a while."

"I hope you are not under the impression that I have a great deal of time to waste in the middle of a weekday on interruptions." Her eyes flashed yellow flames for just a moment before settling to their more cat-like appearance. "Get to the point."

Peter ignored her sharp tone and rounded the chair facing her to plop himself down. He felt a little thrill when she took a seat of her own, her cheek twitching in irritation. "To be frank, I came here because I am in need of a spouse to secure an heir for the House of Parker, and I want that spouse to be your consort. You already know we've been sleeping together. You might also know that I am completely and utterly in love with him. And I believe he's in love with me, too."

Shiklah gave him an appraising look that seemed to find him wanting. Peter couldn't help shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. Maybe he shouldn't have laid his hand out so quickly. "Wade has pledged his loyalty and fidelity to me. While I may look past a dalliance or two, what makes you think I am going to permit my consort to leave me service for a lowly principality?" 

Peter fought the urge to puff his chest out at the insult . "My country may be the size of your capital city, but we have more wealth than two of the six major kingdoms in the Alliance. We are not without our benefits." He left out the part where one of those two kingdoms was Monstropolis.

"Your coffers are not relevant. My question still stands."

Peter leaned his back against his chair and ground the inside of his cheek between his molars, thinking. He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair arms while Shiklah raised an impatient eyebrow at him. "You're planning to marry Dracula in the winter, aren't you?"

"There is no reason for you to know such things, but I can guess where you acquired such information. What's your point?"

"I heard negotiations aren't going as well as you would like."

Shiklah leaned forward in her chair, her glare sparking with interest. "And where did you hear that?"

Something Wade didn't know, because why would he? But Anna Maria had her spiders, and Peter had set his tablet to read out all her reports on Monstropolis in the car. "I'm a spider. I know how to hide away without being noticed. I hear things." 

Peter folded his hands over his lap and looked Shiklah straight in the eyes. Sajani was going to hate him for this, but if it got her what they needed, she wasn't going to be allowed to complain. "You need leverage in the negotiations. I have something that neither Monstropolis, nor Transylvania have been able to acquire."

"And that is?"

"SpiderWeb. I own the patent and the manufacturing mechanisms. I could provide your country with enough materials and technicians to install the lines to cover your entire kingdom."

"There is a trade embargo between my country and Longueile," she reminded him, but her entire body language had shifted into taught alert. Her eyes followed his every movement.

Peter spread his hands out in front of him with a grin. "Thankfully, I'm not the ruler of Longueile. I'll get it done. And I only need one thing in return."

Shiklah's expression soured and she settled back into her chair, hands curling over the gargoyle heads of her chair arms. "Wade is my consort. He signed a contract to serve me for as long as I have need of him. You have already given him a Chivalric Order without consulting me. I cannot permit further encroachment."

"You're not going to need a consort after you get married. And with the promise of my technology, you will have no problem getting Dracula to finalize the agreement. He's been trying to get at my tech since I developed it."

Shiklah tapped her nails on the hardwood. "Need is an objective word. He has very useful… skills."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, jealous flashes of Wade sharing Shiklah's bed rather than his momentarily clouding his vision. "I know he does. And some of those skills will become a liability when future heirs come up. Dracula's a jealous man. He'd try to kill Wade before he let him father an heir to you, wouldn't he?"

"I don't see how that's any of your concern."

"You know it is. That Wade is." 

Peter set that between them and let it simmer, watching her unmoving face as she weighed her options. Peter knew Shiklah could smell moods the way he could sense danger. The air must have been thick with his nerves, but he refused to let a bit of it show on his face.

"I am not about to be seen as weak by permitting my consort to be stolen out from under me by a Prince-elector of the tiniest country in the world."

"Technically, Krakoa has less land mass than Spider, but that depends on whether or not they're fighting with their mate. And it doesn't matter. I can wait. Include Wade's freedom in your marriage contract. Once you're married, you won't have any use for him in your bed. Say that you chose to dissolve the contract as a show of fidelity to your new husband. I'll begin laying the groundwork for Monstropolis to be outfitted with SpiderWeb in the meantime as a show of faith. And if Wade chooses to enter a contract with Spider once his agreement with you has dissolved, he'll be a free man to do what he wants and you'll be busy getting to know your new people."

"And my new wireless internet capabilities," Shiklah said, dropping her hands from where they had stood pressed together against her lips in thought. She didn't smile, but there was a sparkle in her eye.

"The fastest, most capable, and stable wireless internet in the world. And you don't even have to pay for it." Sajani was going to kill him for that, but they could afford it. 

"No cost?"

"No cost. At least not the installation. You'll have to take care of the maintenance and upkeep, but that should be minimal for at least the first two decades. Maybe less here, given how many of your citizens enjoy burrowing underground, but as long as no one purposely chews through the cable, two decades is probably a safe estimate."

"And should I wish to upgrade before the lines need maintenance?"

Peter gave her a long look. They both knew Monstropolis couldn't afford the initial costs, let alone upgrades. He wasn't going to let her walk all the way over him. "We can discuss that at a later date. Do we have a deal?"

Shiklah looked like she had been given a plate of pancakes drizzled in vinegar, but she extended her hand anyway to shake. "I suppose we do."

Peter shook her hand, unable to contain his smile, his heart beating faster than a cheetah's. "Excellent, thank you so much." They stood as one, and Shiklah moved as though to escort Peter out, but he turned to her without moving a step. "I'll need to see it in writing, of course. Anna Maria doesn't do anything if she doesn't have it in triplicate."

She raked her eyes down his frame in an unsettling way that reminded him of how a leopard sized up the weakest antelope. "Of course."

-

> [Dear Wade,
> 
> Shiklah would not permit me to see you before I left the palace today so that I might tell you in person, but I have secured your release from her servitude. When her wedding to King Dracula is complete, you will no longer be bound by duty as her consort. You will be free to do as you please. I hope that means you will come to me, but should you choose another path, I will always be happy in the knowledge that I provided you with choices. I wish you happiness in whatever form that takes.
> 
> But let me be momentarily selfish in hoping that that happiness starts with me. I am stupidly in love with you and want you with me always.
> 
> Until that day comes, I will continue to write you letters. I hope that you will be permitted to write me back, as you have in the past. 
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Peter]

-

Peter tapped his pen against his palm, letting Anna Maria's voice wash over him without paying as much attention to it as he should. She was already annoyed with him for missing a treaty meeting to visit Monstropolis. But his mind was still buzzing with his plan, and he found himself interrupting without meaning to. "How much SpiderWeb would we need to cover Monstropolis?"

Anna Maria whipped around to look at him so fast she toppled her mug and had to scramble to pick it up before her tea spilled all over the table. "I'm sorry?" she said, mopping up the spill with her napkin. 

"If we wanted to expand the SpiderWeb network to Monstropolis, how much cable would we need?"

"Monstropolis could never afford it. Tony set the embargo so high to make sure of it," Sajani reminded him.

Peter shook his head, eyes still trained on his pen. "I didn't ask how much it would cost them. I asked how much cable we might need to do it."

The mopping finished, Anna Maria dropped the towels into a trashcan without taking her eyes off Peter. Behind her, Sajani was giving him a shrewd look. "I'm not sure off the top of my head, but I can run the numbers. Why?"

"I want to gift Shiklah the cable and send technicians to do the installation as a show of good faith."

"Good faith for what?" Sajani asked, eyes narrowing.

"Don't worry about it. Please get the numbers together, and we can connect with Morbius from Monstropolis to figure out logistics. It doesn't have to be our highest grade, but it does need to be enough to outfit the entire kingdom."

"Tony won't like it. You know he wants to keep them as low-tech as possible to keep their military power manageable so they don't try to invade Longueile again." 

"That isn't our problem. Monstropolis would never bother with us, especially if we've provided them advanced technology beyond anything they were capable of acquiring on their own. That's all I care about." It was a heartless thing to do to Longueile, but Tony had already made his life difficult out of greed, and it was time Peter stopped letting him.

"It wouldn't hurt the negotiations to have Monstropolis as a potential ally backing our demands, either, would it?" Anna Maria said, glancing at Peter with a tiny smirk over the top of her tablet. 

Peter smiled back at her. "I don't suppose it would."

"Having a betrothed and an heir in the works would be better," Sajani said, giving Peter a significant look.

Peter turned his smile on her. "That has also been taken care of." He stood, picking up the stack of profiles he'd brought with him for this exact moment and walking to the fireplace. "In fact, I won't be needing these anymore." He dropped them into the fire, scattering the pages and watching them alight. If he got a little thrill from the melodrama of the act, well, who could blame him? "Consider the subject of my future spouse closed until I tell you otherwise," he said, dropping the last few files into the fire and walking back to his seat. Anna Maria and Sajani shared a look, neither of them particularly pleased but neither of them unhappy, either. 

"What do we say if Tony tries to protest the gift?" Ned asked, his eyes fixed on his own laptop. He hadn't said anything the entire meeting, but his eyes were open as wide as they could be. 

Peter leaned across the table with his forearms draped across the glass and a grin on his face. "We'll remind Tony that I own the patent rights to SpiderWeb and am legally permitted to share it with whomever I choose without his country's interference, as long as a financial transaction does not take place. I'm sure there are several other nations that would love to offer Spider aide, should we provide them with access to SpiderWeb technologies."

"Krakoa has been looking for embargo-less access for years," Anna Maria said, glancing up once more. 

Peter nodded, pleased that she was beginning to catch on. "They may be a small nation, but I have a feeling Tony wouldn't like all those powerful mutants having access to the fastest connections on the planet."

"No, he would not," Anna Maria said with a decisive swipe of a finger across her screen. 

-

Tony did not like the idea. Not even a little bit. “You want what now?” he asked, leaning over the table with his elbows digging into the wood. 

“I want full rights to succession for any blood heir to the Parker line, regardless of lineage. I also want full rights to use a surrogate and donor egg or sperm in cases of fertility issues or same-sex marriages, as long as one biological parent of the offspring is of Parker blood.”

“And you won’t convert to Stark Tech?”

“No.”

“What exactly am I getting out of the deal, then? You seem to have forgotten the negotiation part of negotiating a treaty.”

Peter smiled at him, the kind with teeth. “I will agree to no longer provide SpiderTech to ally nations free of charge in exchange for loyalty.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “No longer? Did you already do that?”

“Monstropolis is being fitted with SpiderWeb as we speak,” Anna Maria informed him, smiling at him as she continued to type on her tablet.

Tony’s face went through a parade of emotions: shock, frustration, consternation. And finally, anger. “Excuse my language, but why in the fuck would you do that? They’re _monsters_. Do you think I put an embargo on trade with them for funsies?”

“They have something I need. We compromised. If you agree to our terms, I will agree to not expand the network out to other nations. Assuming Longueile continues to honor the treaty.” It was a direct hit, and Peter could see it on Tony’s face. He had thought he could use Peter’s grief to make advances on Spider, and he was seeing just what those advances got him.

"Those monsters have already tried to invade Longueile twice. You just gave them a nuke and sent them to our front door," he said. All the color had drained from his face. He looked like he might throw up.

"Monstropolis is about to enter into a marriage alliance with Transylvania. They already have more than enough strength to come after Longueile. But they also now have access to the Shytestone deposits they were looking for, so why would they bother? Shiklah is going to be busy integrating vampires with her citizens. She won't have the time to waste that kind of energy."

Tony clenched his teeth, clearly unconvinced. “Fine.”

“If I can just summarize the proposed changes,” Tony’s wife, Pepper, interrupting, cutting the tension between Peter and Tony with her impeccable professionalism. There was a reason her family had produced the last seven Treasury Secretaries for Longueile. She cleared her throat when the rest of the room turned to her and began typing on her laptop as she spoke. “Longueile agrees to the following guidelines for the continued independence of the Principality of Spider: The Crown Prince-Elector of Spider must be a blood heir of the Parker lineage, to be determined by genetic testing. The line of succession is no longer restricted to the firstborn male heir, but must be biologically of the Parker line. 

“Should the current ruler of Spider become permanently incapacitated or deceased, the counsel of Spider will have six months to find and establish a new blood heir in the line of succession. If an heir cannot be produced naturally, a surrogate is permitted—”

“You can’t use donor biological material. The offspring has to be biologically connected to both the Parker heir and their spouse,” Tony cut in, staring Peter down like he wanted to reach across the table and shake him. Pepper shot him an annoyed look for the interruption.

Peter’s heart sank. If he couldn’t use donor eggs, the prospect of marrying Wade disappeared. He would have to marry a woman. There was no other choice to keep the future of the kingdom safe. The thought of keeping Wade as a mere consort instead of as his husband with all titles and honors made him feel sick. Wade would likely agree to it, but could Peter do that to him? Could Peter even contemplate the idea of sharing his bed with someone else, even if it was only to produce children?

“What about illegitimate heirs?” Sajani asked, ignoring the heartbreak written all over Peter’s face.

Tony smirked. “Do some sowing of those wild oats, there, Pete?”

Peter frowned at him, thrown off by just how cutting the question was. Tony knew how hard it had been for him to get over Gwen’s death. The idea that he would have slept around enough to have a secret child was a palpable blow. 

Pepper sent Tony another sharp look, and he immediately lost the cocky smirk. “We might agree to consider an illegitimate heir, but only in the case that no legitimate heir is found. They must have Parker blood,” she said.

Peter nodded, mind still reeling from the concept of not marrying Wade. The technology had been created to produce offspring from two biologically female genetic material, but it still wasn’t available for biologically male couples. There were more talks, but Peter’s brain had shut off to work on the problem, twisting it around to find something that meant he could marry Wade. And then something appeared. 

“Could I borrow Dr. Banner to help me with a biological problem?” he asked, only vaguely aware that he was interrupting Ned and Pepper discussing wording. 

The entire room went quiet and looked at him, Tony with frustration, Anna Marie, Sajani, Ned, and Pepper with confusion. “Is this really the time for this?”

“Sorry, I realize we’re in the middle of something important, but this is important, too. If we agree to a requirement that the heir has to be the biological offspring of both the Parker heir and their spouse, then I want to find a solution for same-sex couples, should one of my heirs be gay. If you let me work with Dr. Banner, I’ll agree to Dr. Banner and Longueile holding the universal patent for whatever solution we create. As long as my line has free and unhindered access to whatever that technology is.”

Anna Maria gave him the most patient of frustrated looks, but sent him a small nod of agreement to the plan. Sajani looked like she was about to open her mouth to protest giving away patent rights, but Tony was considering him intently. “What guarantee will we have that you’ll produce anything successful?”

“I can assure you, I am very motivated to find a solution.” 

“Fine. Can we get back to the boring language talk now? I want this over as quickly as possible. This negotiation has gone on long enough.” Tony looked to Pepper with a wave of his hand urging her to continue. She gave him a look that spoke to his sleeping arrangements for the near future, but continued detailing the phrasing as if Peter hadn’t interrupted. 

Peter sat back in his chair and let the words wash over him, hearing them, but already itching to get to his lab. Unfortunately for him, there was a lot more meeting to go.

-

Shiklah was resplendent in her red velvet gown, her long black hair cascading down her bare back in perfect curls. Wade found himself unable to take his eyes off the way the curls gently swayed against her pale skin as she moved. He had never been naive enough to believe that he could one day be standing in Dracula's place waiting for her at the front of the throne room—he knew now that he would never be at the receiving end of anyone's hand in marriage—but he still found himself unable to look away. This day was supposed to crush him, shatter his heart into a million pieces and spread it so far across the land that it would be centuries before they ever came back together again. But all he felt was numb. 

Peter was not at the ceremony, though many other foreign leaders were. Wade wondered if Shiklah had invited him and he had chosen not to attend out of respect for their very public dalliance, or if she had simply not included him. Either option left Wade cold. With this wedding, the chances of Wade ever seeing Peter again dropped down to zero. Shiklah would no longer need his presence attending her at the ASVC. Dracula was a master strategist and had already vowed to take over the protection of their kingdom with his vast armies. Wade would no longer be needed at strategy meetings. And he no longer held a place at Shiklah's side in the social aspects of those meetings. He had no purpose with this marriage, no reason to remain in this court of foreigners who cared little for him except for what he could do for them. And that turned out to be very little. Almost nothing. 

Wade took his eyes from the Queen and looked out the window to the North Tower, thoughts returning to the idea of jumping. Not today. He would never ruin Shiklah's day. But tomorrow. Tomorrow he would climb to the top of the tower and finally find out what would happen if he jumped. 

His eyes fell on Jack Russell, stiff in his seat in the back corner, in a suit made for him that he looked unnatural in. His eyes were burning red and trapped on the back of Dracula's head. Wade wondered if he were trying to burn the Vampire King alive with his eyes alone. Wade had certainly tried that tactic himself before. It never worked out.

-

The dancing was still underway, but Wade's heart had never been in it, and he had lost the ability to hide it. He walked to his rooms alone, the noise of the party fading the further away from the Great Hall he got. All he wanted to do was pull off the fancy suit he'd been forced to wear and crawl into bed and re-read Peter's letters, as he did every night. 

There was one flaw in the plan. When he walked into his rooms, they were completely devoid of any of his belongings. His bed was neatly made up the way every guest room in the palace was made. His discarded clothes were no longer draped across the armchair by his wardrobe. His weapons were nowhere in sight. His bookshelves were bare of all of his books. The entire room had been stripped of every single one of his belongings. On the trunk at the end of his bed set an ornate wooden box with a note propped up on its lid. Wade recognized the stationary right away, his heart beginning to pound. He strode across the room in three steps and snatched the envelope up, ripping it open without worrying about damage. The note inside was simple, in Morbius' ridiculously pretentious calligraphy that Wade could only read because he'd been forced to figure it out so many times in his past. What it said nearly stopped his heart.

> [To His Honorable Captain Wade Winston Wilson of Hellesponte,
> 
> Queen Shiklah thanks you for your long and distinguished service to Crown and Country as consort and Captain of the Guard. The marriage uniting Her Highness, Queen Shiklah of Monstropolis, First of Her Name to High King, Ispán of Blasov, Dracula the First marks the conclusion of your obligations to the Queen. 
> 
> Personal belongings have been packed and prepared for transport wherever you choose to reside. You will find within the chest below this missive most generous compensation for the duties you have long performed for the Crown, as well as the personal correspondence previously deemed sensitive and classified. 
> 
> Should you have further queries on this matter, you may seek my council. 
> 
> Good Luck,
> 
> Skartabel Michael Morbius, PhD]

Confused by what Morbius could have meant by sensitive correspondence, Wade tucked the letter in his pocket and opened the lid of the box. What he found inside forced him to take a seat on the trunk lid. He reached for the top envelope with shaking hands, recognizing the hand immediately and thrown by the date. 

Wade had assumed that Peter had been rebuffed by his leaving the Summit early without saying farewell and had moved on. But the letter in his hands was dated two days past. 

He struggled to open it with his trembling fingers, careful not to rip the paper more than necessary. Peter's messy handwriting greeted him, a short letter, but beautiful to his eyes all the same.

> [To My Dearest Wade,
> 
> It has been half a year since I last heard from you, and I am beginning to worry that you've changed your mind. Or maybe Shiklah has decided to go back on our agreement and not let you go, even after the wedding. You'll have to forgive me for cursing her selfishness if that is true. You deserve to be happy as much as she does, and I know you never will be rotting away in that palace with nothing to do, watching your queen bed another while you are shown no attention. 
> 
> I dream about racing to Monster Metropolis and storming the palace to retrieve you, diplomacy be damned. I've already done it once, though it probably wasn't as dramatic as I imagine it was in my head. And I didn't come home with you no matter how desperately I wanted to. 
> 
> Shiklah promised me that she would release you from your contract at her wedding, and I witnessed her signing the agreement myself. She's legally obligated to, and I have every intention of holding her to that should she try to walk the agreement back. But the not knowing is killing me. All I want is to see your writing of my name on an envelope. I love you dearly and hope to welcome you to my home soon.
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Peter]

Wade had to read the letter twice before the words made sense in his brain. Peter hadn't given up on him? It sounded like Peter had even orchestrated the letter from Morbius dissolving him of his duties to the Queen. But why had no one told him? 

He looked through the chest and found six dozen more letters, two a week for nearly a year. He desperately wanted to read them all, but as he shuffled through them looking for the first, realization hit him. There was nothing keeping him at the palace anymore. If the letters were true, that would mean—

He stood abruptly and shoved the letters back into the chest, snapping it shut and locking it before tucking it under his arm and hurrying out of the room that was no longer his. Morbius was standing in the foyer with his hands behind his back, eyes locked on Wade as he hurried down the stairs four at a time. "I see you found my note," he said, eyeing the trunk with an unreadable expression.

"It's true?" Wade asked, his face hot with adrenaline and his muscles buzzing with the need to GO, GO, GO. 

Morbius nodded with a resigned pinch to his mouth. "Yes, you are indeed relieved of your duties."

"So I can go?"

"As you no longer have a home in the castle, it is strongly encouraged that you do." 

Wade started past Morbius before he'd even finished the sentence, hurrying to the cloak closet to pull out his traveling cloak only to find it absent. Probably packed away with everything else. It could wait. "See you never, then. You can send my things to Steatoda Castle!" he yelled over his shoulder, not looking back as he clambered out the front doors and sprinted for the stables. He could take a car, but he'd never bothered owning one and borrowing one of Shiklah's to run off into the sunset felt wrong somehow. 

Sir Clip Clop VI was already saddled when he reached the stables, almost as if Morbius had known he would make a run for her as soon as he read the note. The stable boy stood at her stall door, holding it open for Wade with a nervous smile. Wade gave him a nod and mumbled thanks as he passed. He double-checked that she was fitted correctly and led her out of the stall quickly. "Come on, sweetheart. We have a prince to kiss," he told her, practically jumping into her saddle and taking off at a sprint as soon as his feet slid into the stir-ups. 

-

Peter was pacing the halls, trying to determine what his next step should be. He was biting his nails and his hair likely looked like he had been electrocuted, but he didn't have the energy to care. He had been sending letters to Wade for six months with no reply, but surely now that the wedding had happened, he was free of Shiklah's agreement, wasn't he? Shiklah had agreed. She had even drafted and signed a document decreeing it that he had witnessed. Did he need to call Wade? Would that break the agreement? What if Shiklah changed her mind and had Wade in a basement somewhere chained to the wall? Did Peter need to save him? Maybe Peter needed to save him.

Peter was just pulling his cloak on when the front doors of the castle burst open with a flood of rain water and a tall figure in a dark cloak holding both doors open between his massive arms. "You'd think the universe would throw me a bone every once in a while and cool it with the water works. I feel like I've been wading through the Great Flood out there," came a voice that stopped Peter in his tracks, the cloak still held frozen over his shoulders.

"Wade?" he asked, unsure if he was looking at reality or a figment of his imagination. 

Wade stepped through the doors and let them close behind him with a loud bang, once more holding the pouring rain at bay. He pushed the soaked hood of his cloak from his face, shaking the excess water from his head like a dog. "The one and only. Did you get more beautiful since I saw you last? I didn't think it was possible, but I think you got more beautiful." 

Peter took a cautious step closer, the cloak dropping from his fingers to pool at his feet. Wade's clothes were torn, shredded in some places, and edged with blood. He looked like he'd gotten in a fight with a badger and lost. Except he was upright and breathing just fine. "What happened to—" he tried to ask, but suddenly Wade was right in front of him and sweeping him up in his arms to kiss him like he was a princess in a fairy story, and all Peter could do was kiss him back. It felt like a promise, that kiss, like coming home. All of the waiting, all of the worry, everything was settled and worth it when Wade's lips touched his. He wrapped his arms around Wade's neck and hopped up into his arms, confident that Wade would be able to catch him and keep him close. His clothes began to soak through where they touched, but Peter was too focused on kissing Wade's face off to care.

When he felt like he'd gotten enough—lie, he'd never get enough—he pulled away, rubbing their noses together and smiling softly down at him. "Took you long enough,"he said, thumbing at the soft curve of Wade's ear. 

Wade's eyes crinkled with his matching smile. He kissed Peter's nose and hitched him up higher to kiss him better. "I love you, too."

Behind them, something clattered to the floor. Peter pulled away once more from their kisses to twist around in Wade's arms just enough to see half the servants, Aunt May, Ned, Anna Maria, and Sajani all stood in the Great Hall, staring at them with varying levels of shock and—in Sajani's case—horror. Peter blushed to find so many people watching their reunion. He ducked his head, curling closer to Wade as if he might be able to provide a shield for the embarrassment. "So… about that remarrying thing…"

There was a long silence that followed. And then a cacophony of voices rose up like a flock of birds. Peter grinned, and turned back to Wade. They could all wait. He had more kissing to do.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> There was a debate in the writer's room on the Bromantic server as to whether I should list the many and varied ways I misspelled Tony's country's name during the writing of this story, or simply leave them all in and let people grow increasingly frustrated trying to figure out what it actually was as the story progressed. I decided to list (my inner editor didn't give me much choice), so here is a list of the many ways I misspelled Tony's homeland:
> 
>   * Longuleie
>   * Longuielei
>   * Longuilie 
>   * Longeluie 
> 

> 
> * * *
> 
> I do not consent to my stories being listed on Goodreads or other book platforms.
> 
> If you want writing updates from me, you can follow me on Twitter [@RonsPigwidgeon](https://twitter.com/RonsPigwidgeon), [Tumblr](https://mscaptainwinchester.tumblr.com/), [NewTumbl](https://mscaptainwinchester.newtumbl.com/), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/MsCaptainWinchester).
> 
> And if you'd like to come yell about Spideypool with me, join the 18+ Discord server I co-mod, [Isn't It Bromantic](https://discord.gg/w6UyAn7)!


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